audio test 2 ma
by Hankton
Summary: just a narration test
1. c 1-8

chapter 1

Aeragon had lived his life happily. He looked around the room at the various bookcases, posters, and items scattered around. All of them had one thing in common – they were all related to the Harry Potter series. Autographed copies off all the seven books were arranged in the cases along with first editions of all the spin-offs. Posters of various characters in the series were stuck all over the walls and several more were kept rolled at the bottom of the closet. The closet held several sets of clothes easily recognised by any HP fan, a set of quidditch robes, school robes and various dress robes. They looked well-worn from the many conventions they had been to.

All this was from the deep love Aeragon held for this particular series. He was born to a rich family but a weak body kept him mostly isolated. His parents loved him all the same and let him indulge in his interests. Unfortunately, his medical condition allowed him only a little more than 20 years on earth and he knew his time was at its end. He lay on his bed, in the room holding all his prized possessions and finally breathed his last.

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Or did he?

He suddenly felt as if he was hurtling through a series of multicoloured passages at breakneck speeds before jolting to a sudden stop. He was surprised but he took it in his stride. It was warm and comfy where he was, in fact it was too comfortable and he fell asleep.

The next time he woke he could feel something pushing him downwards and he was suddenly out of that place. It felt cold and uncomfortable and he could hear himself crying loudly before he finally realised his situation. Like in some of the other books he had read, he seemed to be reincarnated after his death.

He felt conflicted about it. On one hand, he didn't pass on and earn his final rest but he also had another chance to live his life. His conflict was washed away when he heard the next words.

A lady's voice, seemingly his mother, was saying, "oh, what a beautiful boy! He looks so healthy. Thank you, healer Karen for all your help. The healers of St. Mungo's truly live up to their reputation."

"It wasn't any trouble at all Kaela. It is all in the magic. Take these potions for the next two days and you will be right as rain. You should already be well enough to take the knight bus home by tomorrow itself."

Aeragon was jolted to the core. He hadn't heard wrong had he? Healers, St. Mungo's, magic, potions, Knight Bus... all these words were running around his head repeatedly as he realised the implications of these words. He had reincarnated into the world of the HP series he loved so much. He felt like shouting out in joy. Unable to control himself in his infant body, he started laughing and cooing aloud bringing broad grins to the faces of his mother and healer Karen who took it as an excellent sign of the baby's health.

He was in the world of harry potter and he was going to grab his second chance at life and live it to the fullest!

chapter 2

Aeragon fell asleep soon afterwards. Maybe the infant body couldn't handle that much excitement and just plonked off after getting tired. He finally opened his eyes the next morning and found himself lying on the bed swaddled in some clothes while his mother was already dressed in some black and crimson robes, talking to the healer. He whined a bit due to his hunger and his mother obliged while still talking to the healer. He kept an ear out hoping for some more juicy titbits of information about the magical world. He also needed to figure out the time period of his birth. Being born during Voldemort's glory days wasn't his idea of fun. It would be best if he was born somewhere around Harry's time of birth so that he could be in a familiar time period.

"Have a safe trip, Kaela. Take the Knight bus back to Hogsmeade. It would be safer than any other way. Especially since you are travelling with young Darius. The death eaters are not too active near Hogwarts but you never know."

This single conversation gave Aeragon several clues as to the situation. One good news was that his home was in Hogsmeade. Being the only all-wizarding village in Britain, he was sure to find out lots of magical secrets. On the other hand, active death eaters but the lack of them near Hogwarts meant that it was before the first fall of Voldemort. It was a bad time to be around and he hoped it was not too far from the fall of Voldemort.

Also, he had apparently been named Darius while he slept.

"I will Karen. It was lovely getting to know you and thanks for all your help. I will leave now and send an owl when possible. Bye."

She took me in her left arm, levitated the small trunk tucked away under the bed and walked out of the ward. We went down some flights of stairs before we reached a reception with a number of patients hanging around sporting a variety of ailments from a bloated man floating a few inches of the ground to a draconian looking man with scales and horns. Several healers wearing the customary lime green robes and the crossed wand and bones sign of the hospital were also bustling about with clipboards and strange contraptions and potions.

Walking past that we finally exited the hospital and stood on the pavement in front of a derelict shop named 'Purge & Dowse Ltd' and hanging a condemned sign. His mom set the trunk down for a bit and held out her right hand holding the wand and promptly took a step back before a violently purple triple decker bus sprang into existence narrowly missing the lamppost next to them. The bus stopped as if it had just hit a wall and he could see the people thrown forward and sprawling all over the place through the windows.

"Welcome to the knight bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Lear Eldridge, and I will be your conductor this fine morning."

We climbed aboard, took a fancy looking comfy chair on wheels and sat down.

"Well, I'll be taking a ticket for Hogsmeade please."

By the time my mother asked for the ticket, the bus had started and was jumping from area to area and narrowly missing several people and structures. The conductor was different but the driver was the same Ernie Prang from the original series.

"That will be a galleon, and would you like any accompaniments, perhaps some hot chocolate."

"No, thank you. That will be all. Please let us know when the stop is about to arrive."

My mother was keeping her sentences short and looked rather queasy. Guess the rattling around and the continuous motion was getting to her. We had three more stops with a variety of witches and wizards getting on and off before finally stopping on the snow-covered streets of Hogsmeade.

They got off and made their way to the shop named J. Pippin's Potions. Aeragon was unfamiliar with the name, it being never mentioned in the books but liked the look of it anyways. The shop was a normal looking one with a wooden façade and archaic furniture inside. There were long racks of labelled boxes of medicine and stoppered bottles of potions in a variety of hues. There was a staircase at the back of the shop that lead up to the second floor and the attic.

They went up to the second floor and it was everything he could imagine of a wizarding home. There were quills and parchment rolls on the worktables, a roaring fireplace with a cauldron hanging over it, books with all sorts of outlandish names on various magical subjects. He did notice that a majority of them were on the subject of various ingredients and potions and also noticed a few cauldrons kept in an inner room. Seems that he won't have to suffer under Snape if he could get a good head start here.

Another major goal of his was to pull the wizarding world into the next century. While magic was a useful answer for almost any need the wizards had, it couldn't substitute for plain creativity and innovation and they had a lot to learn from muggles on that front. Their communication systems, means of entertainment and general lifestyle was too medieval for his liking after having lived in the 21st century.

Look at him, two days in the wizarding and he was already plotting out his future and assumed he was going to Hogwarts. He was going to fit right into this world. The next few years would be fun. He would try to ferret out all the behind the scenes secrets of the wizarding world which weren't mentioned in the books and movies. He had a lot to look forward to.

chapter 3

It had been a long year. While he was grateful for the second chance at life, he could have never imagined the boredom and embarrassment that came with the life as a baby. He had had an uneventful year for the most part, though he may have made a few slip ups. His drive to get started with his magical journey coupled with the desire to be more independent made him forget to curb himself and he was already crawling before he was 5 months of age. He walked for the first time last month and was on the very cusp of being able to speak coherently.

It was only a few days earlier, when he heard his mom bragging to the receptionist at Scrivenshaft's quill shop about his advanced capabilities that he realized that he had screwed up. But that brought up a new dilemma. He wanted to learn as much as possible before school started and he couldn't do that if he was constantly hiding from his mother. So, he had to either suck it up and live as a mere child for several more years or assume the mantle of a genius. Well maybe he could compromise and somehow convince her that he didn't want to be too famous.

The house they lived in was courtesy of his mother's position as the manager of the shop, J. Pippin's potions. He found out a lot about her over the course of the year by overhearing some of her conversations with others and seeing some of her correspondence when lying on her lap. Her full name was Kaela Icarus née Ira Dominus of the pure-blood house of Ira Dominus and formerly married to a Greek magician Erastus Icarus from a clan of inventors and ancient rune experts. Having experienced a very different life before and also read about the prowess of half-bloods and muggle-born in the series, he did not set much store by bloodlines and purity but even he had to admit that his were impressive.

His father had worked with Gringotts, the wizarding bank run by goblins from what he could make out. So, he was most likely some sort of treasure hunter or curse breaker for them. A thrilling occupation and one he found an interesting option for when he was an adult. Unfortunately, his father went missing in some Mayan ruins on one of his explorations about a couple of months after his conception. His mother held up admirably after the ordeal and despite the large fortune that she and her husband had, took up a job to keep herself busy. The shop here was a branch store of the one in Diagon Alley and she got the job via one of her connections in the family.

Though he had not been to all of the shops with her, he did make the rounds of the Three Broomsticks (no butterbeer for him though), Dervish and Banges (the magical contraptions there were mesmerising), Scrivenshaft's quill shop, the Magic Neep (a greengrocer, never mentioned in the series though) and the Hogsmeade Post Office (the place had literally every kind of owl imaginable). One more place which got regular visits was Dogweed and Deathcap, a herbology shop which also functioned as a apothecary and from where his mother got most of the required ingredients for her potions.

Though his drive to learn magic was strong, it was only halfway through the year that he realised that he would not be able to perform magic without his wand, which he could only buy after he was eligible to enter school. It was a crushing blow, but he adapted soon enough and realised that he could use the time to get far ahead with the subject theory and with potioneering. With a master potioneer by his side, he would be fool not to utilise the advantage to get ahead while he could.

Another important thing he had to do was to keep an ear out for the death eater movements. As far as he knew Hogsmeade had not been attacked by them the first time round and he hoped that wouldn't change. Being in a wizarding home had the other benefit of being able to listen to the Wizarding Wireless Network. The WWN had lots of interesting titbits of information and he heard several familiar names like some of the Ministry members and the Order of the Phoenix. The warnings about several dark curses and creatures in league with Voldemort sounded out regularly throughout the day. He never truly appreciated the description about the desperate days during the rise of Voldemort but he was living them now.

Well, he would complete one year in this new world tomorrow and he was as grateful to be here as he was on the first day. Cheers for many more exciting years and lots of magical fun.

chapter 4

It had already been five years since his new life. He was also finally used to the name of Darius Icarus. He had completely settled into his new life in Hogsmeade. The village was amazing and was so much more than the descriptions in the books. His mother was on good terms with most of the residents and he was already well known amongst them for his intelligence and curiosity.

The kindly couple who managed Honeydukes let him have some chocolates every time he visited and he finally tasted butterbeer for the first time his last birthday when Rosmerta was able to sneak him a mug. It was better than he could have imagined and he made it a point to visit at leaast once a week for a mug. Dogweed and Deathcap was interesting too and his mother was delighted with his interest in the subject and was already teaching him about the various herbs and ingredients though he hadn't started with potions yet.

Zonko's was certainly interesting but it got boring after a couple of visits. He could see why Weasley's wizard wheezes did so well. Zonko's kept old stock and there wasn't much innovation involved. Maybe he could pair up with the Weasley twins and join in their business later.

The greatest find of all though was Tomes and Scrolls, the Hogsmeade bookstore. The owner was named Leonard Vance and seeing my enthusiasm about the books, willingly let me come in and read some books in my spare time. The guy was very pleased with my habit and even started helping him out with the difficult bits. He had already read a lot of the Hogwarts material he got his hands on. It was a bit Hermione-ish of him but it was too big an allure to pass up on.

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1, 2 & 3) by Miranda Goshawk

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

Intermediate Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

Spellman's Syllabary

Advanced Rune Translation

This covered a lot of the material taught there but the lack of a wand kept me from putting the theory into practice. But memorising the herbology, potions and ancient runes theory would be just as useful. In fact, he believed that runes would be one of the effective ways to make the advances in magical society that he wanted. Able to function in a way eerily similar to the computer coding of muggles, they were a good replacement for making magical versions of modern items.

Another piece of good news was that he had finally figured out where he fitted into the whole timeline. Slightly after he was two years old, the wizarding world erupted with the news of Voldemort's fall. As Harry should have been a year old at the time, he was apparently a year senior to Harry. The wizards and witches were truly jubilant and there were a dozen parties the entire week after that in Hogsmeade itself not to mention all over the rest of the country. His mother received so many owls that she was nearly driven crazy by them. But he did learn an important secret, though not in the Order of the Phoenix, his mother had a few acquaintances in it, notably Minerva McGonagall, the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts. She had dropped by a week after and had lengthy conversation with his mother.

The years had passed by quickly after that with all the reading and preparations he had been doing. The books at Tomes and Scrolls had proven most useful and he searched out all the preparation he could do while still young.

He also searched through the second-hand books to see if he could find some discarded books of Hogwarts students. He was mainly hoping to find some of Snape's early potions books but no luck there. He did manage to land his hands on a few other treasures though. He found the potions textbooks of 'LILY POTTER' and the transfiguration textbooks belonging to Kingsley Shacklebolt. They both had copious notes in them and he would go through them thoroughly later. He also searched the advanced books section of the shop. A few interesting finds were the books on occlumency, animagi transformations, rune overlay and intent casting.

Occlumency would be vital to him with all the secrets he was hiding. It would also serve to train in focussing his mind which would help him with his spells and also intent casting.

Animagi transformations had been a surprisingly interesting read and he discovered to his surprise that there were several ways to initiate the transformation. In fact, it was so detailed that he wouldn't be surprised that Marauders had learnt the art from this book itself. It had the Native American way of drawing support from animals and totems, the European way of finding one's inner animal and unleashing it and many more outlandish methods.

Rune overlay was the method of magically grafting runes onto an object and in essence transforming it into a magical tool. He was going to have a lot of fun experimenting with that one.

Intent casting was the one which may prove to be the most important of the lot. It explained the theory of how one's will affected magical power and how to hone it to cast magic without casting aides like wands. An ancient and unpredictable art, it granted the magician the power to cast without a wand and utilize non-verbal spells easily. It required long periods of effort to hone the mind but the pay-out was worth it.

All of these methods gave Darius an additional way of practice i.e., his mind and will. He had started meditating and practice channelling magic through his body which had the three-fold effect of preparing himself for intent casting, strengthening his mind for occlumency and animagi transformations and also developing his physical body better. He was already as tall as 7-8 year olds at the age of 5. He also had quite a strong body, rarely got ill and his mental faculties were improving. It wasn't a glaring difference now but he bet that it would benefit him greatly in the future.

His timetable every day was quite full. He sat on a stool beside his mother in the mornings at the shop, occasionally asking her any doubts he had about herbs or potions. He meditated for intent casting in the afternoons and spent his evenings at one of the shops in Hogsmeade, generally Three Broomsticks for the butterbeer or Tomes and Scrolls for the books. Another session of meditation followed dinner and then sleep. He was discovering that the magical meditation was a viable replacement for sleep. He woke up after each session wide awake and bursting with energy. He would get around to experimenting with that one of these days. He didn't have many friends his own age. Though there were a few kids in Hogsmeade, they were too juvenile for his taste and he rather spent his time buried in all those magical tomes.

His mother had promised that he could soon brew some simple potions under her guidance if he was interested. Being one of the few subjects that didn't require the use of wands, at least in the earlier periods, he was itching to get started.

The years ahead were certainly going to be entertaining.

chapter 5

He had just completed his first decade living in the magical society and the first big change of his new life was upon him. His mom and him were shifting to London. They were leaving the shop in the hands of another manager from the Ira Dominus clan. Their new bunk was to be at a magical boarding house at Kings cross inn hotel. It was a magically hidden establishment neighbouring a muggle building of the same name. The way it was hidden rather reminded him of 12, Grimmauld Place.

His mother was taking up a job as assistant manager at Slug and Jiggers apothecary at Diagon Alley. Though he was loath to move away from the comfortable life he had built up for himself, he did see the advantages of living in the heart of the magical society in Britain. Also, the chance to be able to take the Hogwarts Express was just too good a chance to pass up.

He had come along swimmingly with his magical attempts and realised something never truly clarified in the series, the growth of magical strength. As far as he had made out, there seemed to be three ways of doing so. The passing of time lent itself to the natural progression of magical limits. Strengthening the mind as he did through meditation and inner magical channelling gave even better increments. Best of all, using magic to the limits gave the largest increase. This meant repeatedly emptying the magical tank, so to speak, and his constant practice certainly did that.

The constant practice also led to him finally gaining some mastery of intent casting. He was now easily able to use most low-level spells. Basically, spells at the level of first and second years were at his fingertips and could also be casted non-verbally. The inner magic channelling and the constant practice had set a very firm foundation for any spell usage and coupled with his extensive knowledge built up regarding magical theory he stood far ahead of his peers.

Leaving the magical aside, he had grown to be in excellent shape physically. Appearing a couple of years older than he was, his musculature was already starting to be well defined and his physical attributes were in top shape and close to that of a regular adult. He was absurdly healthy for a boy cooped up indoors all the time and the sole credit of that went to the magical strengthening of his body due to the channelling. He suspected he may also have some amount of magical resistance, something like what the giants had, though to a far lesser degree. He should be able to shrug off minor curses and charms and have greater resistance to the rest, though at the moment this was just conjecture due to his instincts and not something verified.

He was already theoretically ready to change into an animagus but preferred to do it after getting his wand to have better control over his magic. Not that he didn't trust intent casting but he didn't want to risk anything. There was also a potion which could further his chances of a successful transformation by amping up his magical power and control for a short duration. His meditation helped him get close to his inner animal and he was sure he could complete the ritual. He was not sure of his transformation but he had a strong hunch that it was something feline.

Sadly, his rune overlay didn't get much practice. Not due to any lack of enthusiasm but lack of many required instruments and raw materials which were hard to get hold of in an inconspicuous manner without alerting his mother. He planned to use the room of requirement in Hogwarts as soon as possible to get started on the art.

To tell the truth, his schedule didn't change much after the shift to London. His mother and him made their way to the shop every morning via floo powder and he sat with her learning yet more about potions and reading up the Spellman's syllabary about runes. Lily's notes were quite useful for potions and taught him lots of workarounds in potions. They also further strengthened his basics and understanding of the processes. His afternoons were spent meditating and channelling and the evenings to stroll across Diagon Alley. He was soon recognise across the street and was a regular at Florean Fortescues's Icecream parlour and at Flourish and Blotts. The bookstore in particular sucked up a lot of his time. It was not free like at Hogsmeade but the shopkeeper let him peruse all the books he wanted for a few galleons a month. He read the next few volumes of The Standard Book of Spells and a lot about magical theory and runes. His sleep pattern was completely altered over the last few years and had come down to just about a couple of hours a night. The rest of the time was spent channelling and thereafter waking up in top condition.

The first visit to Gringotts was another highlight. He met goblins for the first time and the journey into the depths of the earth on the crazy cart was fun. Their vault was number 531 and was stacked with galleons. Well, at least he didn't need to worry about his finances at all.

There was one year left to his 11th birthday and soon get his own wand and thereafter step into the halls of Hogwarts. He knew how far ahead of his peers he was, but that didn't mean he should slacken his efforts at all. In fact, knowing the tribulations in store for the wizarding world, he needed to unceasingly keep improving and build up his strength.

chapter 6

It was the 21st of June and he was celebrating his 11th birthday today. He was out with his mother for the day at Diagon Alley. He had already got his birthday gift, the customary animal companion from his mother. It was a handsome looking tawny owl with a built for speed and lovely plumage in various shades of brown which he had named Dusk. They had gotten the Hogwarts owl early in the morning and though he knew it was coming, the letter still gave him goosebumps when he read through it.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr Darius Icarus,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Uniform

First-year students will require:

Three sets of plain workrobes(black)

One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

One pair of protective gloves (dragonhide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

Set Books

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other equipment

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

They had brought the required books from Flourish and Blotts, except the ones which he already had, which happened to be most of them. Then it was onto Madam Malkin's for his robes. He already had all the potions books and ingredients he could possibly need. After buying the remaining miscellaneous items it was time to head to the last destination. Barely able to keep himself from running towards Ollivanders. It was about time he got his own wand.

The shop was a narrow and shabby looking structure in a corner and you could hardly believe that nearly every witch or wizard in the country got their wand from here. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single spindly chair which both of them avoided. Darius got the strange impression as though he had just entered a very strict library. He looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling, knowing that one of them would be his own. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic. He supposed that Ollivanders workshop would be at the back and the magical cores and woods lent to the atmosphere in the shop.

"Good afternoon."

Ollivanders suddenly appeared from behind the shelves and his glassy eyed stare was fixed on Darius. His eyes almost seemed to be ignoring him despite directly staring at him as if they were looking within him. It was not a very pleasant feeling and he became a bit curious about the man who was responsible for creating almost all the wands in the country.

"Good afternoon, Ollivander. This is my son Darius. He is here to get his own wand."

"Ah, Madam Icarus, a pleasure to have you in my shop again. It seems just yesterday that you were buying your wand. You favoured a pine wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. An excellent wand for delicate spell work. Well, I say you favoured it – it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course. I was expecting young Darius to drop by one of these days."

"Well, let us get down to business Darius, shall we? Please hold out your wand arm for a moment."

Darius held out his arm while the magical tape began measuring all over his body and Ollivander started peering into boxes to find him a suitable wand. Soon, even the measuring stopped but Ollivander kept going through boxes, muttering to himself without even having him test any of the wands. Only a good while later did he return with an engraved box and set it on the counter.

"Pardon me for the tardiness customers, but you have presented me with a bit of a quandary. What I'm about to tell you is a family secret and I would appreciate if we could keep it between ourselves. I only tell you this to impress upon you the contradictions here. Every witch or wizard passing through my shop has a particular essence to them and the wands I select are some of those best suited to them. But what Darius here has are two contradicting essence of life and death. While twin essences are rare, they do exist. But directly opposing ones are theoretically impossible. This is a wand I made in my youth and I would call one of my best yet also worst creation."

Darius thought about his first death and his reincarnation thereafter and quite agreed with the explanation but hoped it wouldn't create any problems getting a suitable wand. Darius couldn't hold it in and had to ask.

"What kind of wand is it Mr Ollivander? And what did you mean with your comment about it?

"This wand is made with wood from white pine and core of thestral tail hair. 11 inches. Pliable. Suitable for powerful magic. The white pine is often used as a symbol of life while on the other hand the thestral tail hair stands for death. The opposing natures would make it difficult for most wizards to use it. But it may just be the best wand for you. Give it a wave."

He just held the wand and he could feel his magic seamlessly merging into the wand. The air around him grew magically charged and a gentle wind started to blow from the ground up. It was beyond anything he could have imagined. The wand almost seemed to be a part of him. He gave it a casual flick and the spindly chair got pushed all the way to the edge of the room.

"It seems that the wand was destined for you, Mr Icarus. It has lain inside its cubicle for close to half a century now before finally seeing the light. I will let you have it for free. But on the condition that you return here every summer to let me have a look at the wand. Your perfectly matched natures are going to make that a great wand, Mr Icarus."

"Thank you for the generosity, Mr Ollivander. We will be back next year. We will take our leave now."

His mother saw off Ollivander and they left the shop with him clutching to the wand with a death grip. He couldn't believe he finally had his own wand. His mother had to remind him not to crush it before he finally stuck it into his robes. He had the rest of the summer to start practising his spells before finally taking the Hogwarts Express on September 1st. A perk of being in the wizarding world was that he could get off casting spell in magical areas like Diagon Alley without owls flying to him from the Improper use of Magic department of the ministry. Lots to do the rest of summer.

chapter 7

It had been a very fulfilling summer practising all the magic he wanted but it was finally time to leave for Hogwarts. He had looking forward to this since the day he had found out he was in the Potterverse. He didn't want any complications today and he set out of the house immediately after breakfast. His mother was impressed by how smoothly he navigated to King's cross station using muggle transport and he managed to pass it off as knowledge from the muggle studies textbooks. They were at the station by 10 o'clock and well in time before the departure at 11.

They took the trolley towards the entrance to platform 9¾ as he thought back to the last few days. He had managed to convince the shopkeeper at Wiseacre's wizarding equipment to enchant his trunk with an undetectable extension charm for a galleon. So, he could fit in all his equipment, clothes and books into the trunk easily. He had taken the entirety of his book collection, wanting to have all his books at hand at Hogwarts. He and his mother travelled to the station in muggle clothes, looking significantly better coordinated than most wizards due to his help. He was wearing a casual untucked shirt over boot-cut jeans and sneakers while his mom wouldn't have looked out of place at a muggle office in her beige pantsuit combo with a brown shirt and black heels. They walked through the magical barrier and emerged onto the crowded wizarding platform. It was already full of parents and children lugging around trunks and owl cages and students milling about in both casuals and robes.

They ditched the trolley and he levitated the trunk and cage containing Dusk ahead of them as they made their way to one of the compartments that seemed fairly empty. He got the trunk aboard and over one of the seats and came back down to stand with his mother. She told him to enjoy his stay at Hogwarts and study well. They stood on the platform and watched all the people bustling about as his mother told him some anecdotes from her time at Hogwarts. She was a Ravenclaw in her time as was his father and she was almost certain that with his bookish tendencies, he would be following the tradition. He didn't think too much into it. Though he didn't mind Ravenclaw in the least, he felt being in Gryffindor would be more satisfying and he could meet more people he knew there.

It was a quarter to eleven and they were just saying their farewells when he noticed a gaggle of redheads making their way onto the platform. The Weasleys made their way through the crowd to the train and he could see that all of them except Bill and Ron were there. He calculated a bit and managed to figure out everybody's respective year in Hogwarts. The twins would be 2nd years, Percy in his 4th and Charlie in his final year. Ginny would likely start a couple of years later. He supposed that Bill had already started work at Gringotts and Ron, that lazy git was sleeping at home. He had had a lot of time to think about the various people he would meet in the wizarding world and his interactions with them. He was going to try to get along with the twins. He liked them and maybe he could bump their plans ahead by a few years. He was going to avoid Percy like the plague. The pretentious, conceited prick didn't interest him at all. Charlie was worth getting to know. The guy was known for his love of dragons and other magical creatures and getting some extra knowledge on the subject wouldn't hurt. He looked forward to meeting Bill but was not sure how to go about that. The guy was a curse-breaker like his dad and getting some advice from some active personnel would go a long way in helping him succeed in the profession. He wasn't planning to have much to do with Ron. He was a jealous, attention seeking, disloyal prat and he would keep him at arm's length. Even Neville would be a better choice of friends, he was loyal and could sum up his courage when the occasion called for it. He just needed somebody to help him out a bit and boost his confidence.

Meanwhile the Weasleys had got aboard the train and he had to do the same. He noticed with great delight that the twins were on the same compartment as him. He bid goodbye to his mother and after one last farewell hug, boarded the Hogwarts Express. He made his way to his seat and noticed the twins on the opposite seat with a parchment lying on the seat between them. He immediately recognised it as the Marauder's map and had to control himself before he gave his excitement away. He had almost forgotten about this miraculous piece of parchment. Seeing as they had it laid out in the open, they likely hadn't figured it out yet. He was most curious about the magic used to create it and the underlying principles. He decided to be proactive and greeted the twins first to get the ball rolling.

"Hi there, got something interesting there?"

The twins were shaken out of their reverie and turned to look at him. They scrutinised him and had perplexed faces. He had always felt that they were much cleverer than given credit for and were just not bothered about the exams which gave people the different impression. Then they spoke in that interesting twin speak where they completed each other's sentences.

"Hmm, a new face – but looks our age or older – we know nearly everyone in all the houses – still, unfamiliar face – Who are you?" They both turned to ask the last question. He had to hold himself from bursting out in laughter at their two-man act.

"My name is Darius Icarus, a freshman and I already heard about the infamous Weasley twins so no introductions required there. I was just curious about what was interesting enough to keep you two so occupied?"

"Hi Darius. Wow we must be getting real famous now that even first years know us before even entering the school. Well, since you asked, this paper here is something we nicked last year from a drawer labelled Confiscated and highly dangerous in the office of Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts. We just haven't managed to find out how it is dangerous and how to use it against that wretched caretaker and his cat."

He couldn't help but laugh out at that and tried to help them along in discovering the pass-phrase of the map. Maybe he could even borrow it sometimes, when the need came up.

"Well, considering where you found it, it is likely from a student and not too dangerous. Let me give it a try." Waving his wand, he chanted, 'specialis revelio'. There was no response, as he had expected but the twins were impressed with the magic.

"That was impressive Darius. We got that spell in the summer from one of mum's books but it didn't help. How did you know about it and do it even before entering school?"

"I have an avid interest in magic and have been practising magic since the day I got my wand. Since that idea didn't work, let's put our heads together and figure out how to get it working. Knowing where you guys found it, I'm sure it was just used by some students who were up to no good."

He had held the wand to the map as he said the last words and the map glowed for a second before dimming down. The twins noticed that and got excited at the first reaction from the map. They quickly figured that the secret lay in the words Darius had spoken and after almost an hour of trial and error based on the intensity of the glow from the map, they managed to get the pass-phrase and the map was used for the first time by the new generation.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The map unfolded and thin ink lines spread from the point where the wand touched. They spread like a spider's web, criss-crossed and fanned to every corner of the parchment and curly words appeared across the top, that proclaimed:

"Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers

are proud to present

THE MARAUDER'S MAP"

The twins took barely a minute before realising the potential applications of the map and identical evil grins broke out on their faces. They turned towards him and looked about ready to kiss him.

"Thanks a lot for the help Darius. You have no idea how much this little beauty is going to help us. Let us know whenever we can help you out."

"No thanks necessary. Just lend it to me once in a while when I need it or want to research it. It's an incredible piece of magic. You should also figure out how to return it to the blank state. You can't go around with a map like that in the open after all."

They easily agreed to his request and it took them almost no time to figure out the way to blank it. They played around with it a couple of times before putting it away with satisfied smirks. I knew from their faces that they were going to raise mayhem this year.

We were getting close to Hogwarts and the twins and I pulled our robes on before settling down again and they told me several things about Hogwarts as we played exploding snap to pass the time. Soon enough, it was dark and we pulled into the Hogsmeade station. It was a familiar sight having spent a decade in the village and he got down from the train. The twins had told him that his trunk and owl would be transported to the castle and not to bother with it. It was most likely the house-elves that did it. It was cold out and there was a minor drizzle as they made their way. He spelled himself with the 'impervius' charm to keep himself dry and did the same for the twins, once again impressing them with his magical abilities.

A large lamp was visible and he saw Hagrid's giant figure beckoning over the first years towards him.

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here! C'mon, follow me – any more firs'-years? Mind yer step!"

He liked Hagrid as well. Though the man did blunder at times, he had his heart in the right place and it was worth it to strike up a friendship with him. Maybe he could go to Hagrid's hut while strolling on the grounds someday.

They made their way to the far end of the lake from Hogwarts through a slippery and narrow, sparsely wooded path in the dark before finally halting in front of a small fleet of boats. The roughly forty students were sorted into fours. The girl next to him was vaguely familiar but he put that out of his mind when the boats started sailing silently across the lake after a forward command from Hagrid. The lake was placid and they finally reached the cliff upon which the great castle stood. Making their way through the curtain of ivy, they reached an underground harbour. They got down from the boats and made their way up the marble staircase before standing in front of a great wooden door. Hagrid knocked thrice and the door swung open to reveal the stern countenance of Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take over the first years from here. You can head over to the Great hall."

Hagrid left and the rest of us silently followed the great witch as we made our way through corridors and staircases before standing in front of the entrance to the Great hall. The students crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously. She asked us to wait awhile and left us there. Darius helped out the people around him by drying out their clothes and finally recognised the girl next to him. It was Katie Bell, Griffindor chaser-to-be. They were all grateful to not have to stand in front of the entire school looking like bedraggled rats and rather impressed with his skills. McGonagall returned right then and he noticed her narrowed eyes settling on him briefly before turning to all of them.

"Welcome to Hogwarts! The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can, though I can see some of you have resolved the situation already."

She looked at him again during her last comment before turning to open the doors and striding in with all of us first years at her heels. It was time for the sorting.

chapter 8

Professor McGonagall led the way with sedate steps, while the first years walked in two lines behind her. He could feel the stares of the entire hall on them and it was an uncomfortable feeling. He happened to glance towards the Gryffindor table and saw the twins giving him cheery waves and relaxed somewhat. He also sneaked a couple of peeks at the enchanted ceiling of the Great hall and it was just as fantastic as he had hoped and thousands upon thousands of candles floated mid-air illuminating the entire hall, giving a very nice celebratory atmosphere.

Finally, they reached the teachers' table and halted just ahead of it. He looked around and saw all the professors sitting there. Professor Dumbledore at the centre, looking serene as usual. He was flanked by the empty chair of McGonagall on his right. He further recognised professors Severus Snape, Filius Flitwick, Poppy Pomfrey, Pomona Sprout, Rolanda Hooch, Sybill Trelawney as well as groundskeeper Rubeus Hagrid and Caretaker Argus Filch. There were a few more teachers but he couldn't recognise them. He also noticed the ghosts as they strolled in the Great hall through the wall and started going to their respective house tables.

He did try to avoid Dumbledore's gaze while also trying to be inconspicuous about it. Though he believed he had trained his Occlumency to a high enough level to avoid his mind from being read, it was better to be safe than sorry. The professor, was after all, an extremely accomplished legilimens and there were too many things in his mind that he couldn't let anyone pry into. He also didn't trust Dumbledore blindly, like Harry had done. Dumbledore was a master manipulator who tried to control all of Harry's actions and kept his cards too close to his chest. He might get roped into Dumbledore's plans, without realising he was being used unless he was very careful. Having read all the books in the series, he realised there were several occasions were Dumbledore could have stepped in easily to avert some chaos yet he didn't take action, leaving it to Harry as some sort of test. The man was the sort of genius that came once in decades and there was much more to him than met the eye. He finally managed to push these sombre thoughts away and somehow focussed back on the dais.

Professor McGonagall had meanwhile, silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. The hat was patched, frayed and extremely dirty. Everyone in the hall was still staring at the hat, when it suddenly burst into song. It was the usual drivel the hat spouted about the various houses and their qualities and he was still pondering about which house he would be sorted into when the whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. He wondered if he would also get to choose his house like Harry did. Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding the long roll of parchment with the names of the first years.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."

"Bell, Katie!"

Katie sat on the chair, looking slightly nervous but excited and the hat was placed on her head which promptly slid down and covered her eyes. Taking barely a few moments -

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The house table on the far right cheered and she left towards them amidst claps and yelling.

"Chang, Cho!"

It was another familiar face who took the seat and he could see her shivering as the hat was placed on her head, from the cold or fear, he couldn't tell. The hat took slightly longer this time before -

"RAVENCLAW!"

She took a seat on the table to their immediate left. The sorting continued for a while before -

"Edgecombe, Marietta!"

It was the girl who had tattled to Umbridge about the DA and she was another one he would be holding at arm's length. Of course, it was a few years later that that event occurred and she was not the same girl now but he was going to be cautious. As per canon, the hat placed her in -

"RAVENCLAW!"

The hat sorted just a few more students before it was his turn.

"Icarus, Darius!"

The sorting hat was plonked down on his head and it covered his vision. He faintly felt a tenuous mental connection and the hat begin mentally communicating with him.

"Hmm. Difficult. Very much so. So much potential. An impressive mind. Capable of great things. Lots of talent. But I see cunning and great foresight. You have an aim. A distant aim you are already walking towards. But great love and loyalty exist. It is a strong part of you. And last but not least your courage is endless. You have surpassed a trial that others cannot and you move forward knowing that there are many more to come. You can excel and bring glory wherever you may be placed. So interesting …... where do I place you?"

It seemed that he had the qualities desired in each house but his choice was already made. It was just a matter of whether the hat would take his opinion into consideration. He firmly stated his choice within his mind. And the hat responded to his wishes...

"So that's your choice. You seek to dwell among the brave and the courageous. And for firmly stepping forward to take your rightful place, it shall be yours! GRYFFINDOR!"

The last was shouted out to the entire hall and he handed the hat to the professor before walking towards the Gryffindor table. As he slid into his seat right next to the twins, they thumped his back and shouted about how he had made them proud as if he had just come back from slaying a dragon. Joking aside, the rest of the sorting was steadily carried out and after quite some time, the final name had been called and the sorting was over.

The hall suddenly quieted as Albus Dumbledore got to his feet. He raised his arms, as if to welcome them all and beamed at all the students in the hall.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! I would like to say a few words. Here they are: Funky! Hawaii! Glide! Wood!

Thank You!"

After the usual, incomprehensible greeting, he sat back down and the feast began. The plates filled up foods of every sort he could imagine and all the ravenous students dived into the feast. There were several meats of different cuts and preparations, boiled or baked veggies, cheeses and much more arrayed on the table. Only after their hunger was somewhat sated and they began eating leisurely, did the students start talking to their neighbours. The twins were already eager to put the map to good use and were calculating how to get back at Filch and Mrs Norris. He turned to talk to Katie and she was happy to do so. She told him about being a half-blood and how excited she was to be in Hogwarts. She was also curious about his magical skill. He waved it off as nothing much and offered to help her in the future if she needed it. He got the topic to the game of quidditch and nudged her to try playing the game. Of course, she couldn't get in the team in the first year but the early practice would refine her skills and get her in contact with Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet at the earliest. Sir Nick, the resident Gryffindor ghost joined them partway through the talking and the twins introduced him and his nickname followed by a show of his talents. They spoke till the end of the feast and he answered several of Katie's questions about magic lessons. Finally, the plates and goblets emptied and the chatter died down as Dumbledore took the stand.

"Ahem, just a few more words now that we are all done with that sumptuous banquet. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Also, quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch, our flying instructor. And now to cap off our night, lets sing a rendition of our school song."

After that torture to the ears was over, wherein several teachers sat with rather stiff faces, it was time to get to our dorms and all of us students begin getting up and shuffling along with our delightfully full and satisfied stomachs. The house prefect led the way to the painting of the Fat Lady. The password given by the prefect got us in and we made our way between the comfortable couches and sofas in the common room and went up the spiral staircase to our dorms. We had made it to our beds at last. It had been a long day and the massive beds with red velvet hangings looked extremely inviting. He barely had enough time to change clothes before collapsing into the bed. He would do his meditation and inner channelling starting tomorrow but today it was to the land of dreams for him.


	2. c09

The first few days in the castle were hectic. Between having to send owls to his mother daily, several classes, getting used to the castle's layout and directions, getting along with all his new friends and his personal magic practice, his days were rather full. He made quite a splash in several of the classes, especially those that had practical wand work requirements like transfiguration, charms and defence against the dark arts. He was enough of a prodigy in potions that even Snape could do nothing but give him a grudging A grade. He may have been the first Gryffindor to achieve that in quite a few years. History of magic was a drag that was nothing but endless amounts of dates and events. Despite having read up a lot earlier, he was barely able to keep his head above the water, not to mention the other students. He was also quite decent at astronomy and herbology due to his prior knowledge but had no real skill or inclination towards the subjects.

Professor McGonagall had invited him to her office on the first Saturday after the start of classes. She frankly told him that she, along with a few more teachers were highly impressed with his skills and upon his agreement, would approach the headmaster to have an exception made and transfer him to the second year. He politely but firmly refused the offer. He would have to catch up quite a bit on his weaker subjects, which would also leave him with lesser time to do his own research and magical practice. It would also widen the gap between him and Harry making it difficult to get closer to him. Of course, he said none of those reasons and simply stated that he would like to let his stay at school take the normal progression and not get ahead of his capabilities. Professor McGonagall respected his choice and excused him after once again commending him on his performance and telling him to keep it up.

Fred and George Weasley were quickly becoming legendary pranksters in the school and with the map, they were never caught by Filch. The two of them and him had quickly become fast friends and they had introduced him to Lee Jordan as well. The dreadlocked boy was already the quidditch commentator. The four of them often explored the castle and grounds, hoping to find even more secrets or passages. They had almost taken on the mantle of being the new generation of Marauders and he worked hard to understand the workings of the map, so they could make even more. The Gemino curse was still beyond his capabilities and would give an inferior copy anyways. As far as he could make out, the map had cleverly been anchored to the various protection wards of Hogwarts with a variation of the Protean charm, thereby synchronising the detection wards and the map. It would take him maybe another year or so before he would be able to duplicate the feat of creating such a map. The four of them also often made their way to the kitchens and he had gotten quite familiar with several of the house-elves there.

His first try at flying was quite good and even Madam Hooch praised his skills. He felt he was good enough to fly well but he had nothing on the instinctive superior skills that people like Harry or Ginny had. He was satisfied to fly a couple of times a week and found it very relaxing. The try-outs in the second week were a hoot. He had taken a seat in the stands and watched as Charlie put the people through the paces. Wood was already in the team and was quickly joined by new chasers Angelina and Alicia. The twins took place as the beaters after vastly outshining all the other participants. Unfortunately, Katie couldn't participate, being a first year and all but he had dragged her to see the try-outs and she was already ready to put her name down for next year's team. He did go for the quidditch matches, at least the Gryffindor ones and quite enjoyed them. The Quidditch cup was won by Ravenclaw though.

His interactions with Snape were hilarious. The man had a grudging respect for his potioneering skills but couldn't let up on him without breaking his persona. Snape did give some hints to improve his skills and left him astounded at the depth of the man's understanding of the subject. He often practised brewing some potions in the room of requirement and was rapidly improving. He hadn't got the chance to nick Snape's textbook as of yet though. He was being very careful, he had only one shot at this and failure could lead to the book being moved elsewhere. Well, he was in no hurry.

He managed to complete all his transfigurations easily and McGonagall was more than happy to help him understand the complex theory behind the spell work. He had also struck up a conversation with her about animagi during some of her spare time, attempting to come across more as a student curious about the subject than someone on the cusp of achieving it themselves. It was a known fact that she was an Animagus and she gave some valuable tips on the subject.

Charms was equally easy for him and he helped out a lot of his classmates with their spells. Flitwick was over-enthusiastic and taught him a lot of spell off-course, pleased at his grasp of charms. Flitwick had been a duelling champion during his time and it hadn't taken much on his part to convince the short professor the need for a duelling club at school. Flitwick promised to talk to Dumbledore about instating a duelling club next year.

The twins also got him acquainted with the mischievous poltergeist, Peeves. He had managed to impress Peeves with some ideas of tricks to play on people and had won his respect. The surprising thing was that the Weasley twins already had their plans for their joke items in the fledgling stage and one of the contributors for the ideas was Peeves. He brought up some of their future ideas from the skiving snack boxes and got to working with the twins on developing them. He himself had a generous fortune at his bank vault and frankly told the twins so. He offered to bankroll their shop in the future if they were interested in return for part-ownership. The twins were grateful and worked more zealously than ever with the added incentives.

He also met Hagrid by the lake, planned encounter of course and talked to him about various magical creatures. Hagrid was even more knowledgeable on the subject than he had expected and Hagrid found him a very willing listener as he regaled him with tales of various magical creatures he had met and those living in the forest. Hagrid even took him to meet some Unicorns in the forest paddock and he saw Hippogriffs from a distance. Other than that, he saw a tribe of Centaurs hunting though didn't step up to speak to them. Hagrid was truly a genial person and Darius loved spending a couple of evenings a week at his hut, avoiding his rock cakes and toffees of course. He even brewed some haemostasis potions for Hagrid to use on wounded animals and told Hagrid about the value of some of the things he had collected in his hut over the years. But the man was not interested in material wealth at all and only magical creatures held his interested. He exchanged letters with Hagrid once in a while and thought about whether he could wrangle himself a trip with Hagrid next summer when he delivered Harry's letter. Something to ponder upon later.


	3. c10

On a more personal note, he had made massive strides in his own magical studies the past year. The magical channelling had effectively improved his body's physical attributes to the levels of a healthy adult and his burgeoning magical powers would dwarf most students in their 6th and 7th years. Since midway through the year, he no longer needed to sleep in the traditional sense and replace it with a form of meditative channelling in a state of zen and even finishing off with plenty of energy at daybreak everyday

The room of requirement was mighty useful for his rune overlay practise. The room where everyone hid their stuff was full of the various ingredients and materials he needed and he was practising at least once a week. He was still not at the stage of producing his own magical inventions but he could make small trinkets and was sure of much more progress the next year.

One of his greatest achievements was completing his Animagus transformation a month before the end of the year. Two occasions were instrumental in helping him transform even earlier than he had expected. Hearing his qualities laid out bare by the sorting hat at the start of the year helped him out part of the way in his own understanding of self. But the greater contribution was from Professor McGonagall whose talks had helped fill in all the blanks in his understanding of the process. Even after that, it took him the better part of the year to complete the rest of the process. He had transformed into an Ocelot, a fierce specimen of the feline species and was very happy with the transformation. It had extremely good senses, capable of sneaking everywhere easily and looked amazing to boot. He had also started working on his own version of the Marauder's map with the help of the ocelot form. Though he didn't have the way to sync his map with the Hogwarts wards yet, he did manage to create a map that filled itself in as he explored an area. Best of all, it wasn't just limited to Hogwarts. The map would fill in every place he went to automatically.

Intent casting had also rapidly improved after furthering his understanding of spell mechanics. It was technically an even higher level of magic than non-verbal casting, which was only taught after the O.W.L.s and he was proud to be as good at intent casting as he was. His proficiency at it also resulted in an improvement to his non-verbal casting automatically. To the uninformed viewer, the two didn't have much difference but intent casting was a level higher and much more versatile and independently functional than the other. Though doing it with a wand gave greater control and power, its biggest advantage was that it could be used without one.

He had taken up quidditch or rather flying as a regular form of relaxation and rapidly got better at it. The strengthened reflexes and balance that came from the channelling lent themselves to his flying skills and he was better than most on the team by the second half of the year. He didn't join the team though, as he had only flying as a skill and was not particularly skilled at any of the playing positions. He did help out the team in improving their flying when he had the time. He had taken on a sort of unofficial advisor position and helped with their planning and cast spells to keep them in their optimum conditions when flying in bad weather or when they needed minor injuries healed.

The healing also brought to his attention his lack of skill in this particular area and he started on it with a vengeance. Madam Pince helped him out with searching the books from the various sections. He finally understood the complexities involved and why healers were so highly regarded and had stringent conditions to enter the profession. Healing was tied in with potions, transfiguration, herbology, charms, and defence against the dark arts depending on the type of injury or illness and there were countless possible combinations of maladies as well as cures. Well, he wasn't going to make a career of it anyways so it would do to learn the basics. The 'Episkey' spell for minor injuries, Haemostasis potions as well as a few more and some herbal salves were what he had in his arsenal as of now.

He was also no longer worried about any theoretical exams. He had been working on spells of his own and a couple of them had borne fruit. He named the spell 'Fortis Memoriae' and it was a spell to fortify the memory to eidetic levels for a specific duration. He had reverse engineered the spell workings from the memory charm 'obliviate' and depending on the amount of magic used it would be viable for anywhere between an hour to a day. So now he just had to use it during his revision before the exams and he could remember what he learnt word for word whenever he wished. If he could get proficient enough with rune overlay to configure the spell on an object, he could rake in the galleons just selling it all over the world. But that would require a level of proficiency in both spell craft and rune overlay that he didn't possess right now, so that idea would have to wait a while. Meanwhile, he no longer had to waste much time studying and could use the time to persue his own interests.

He had also practised the Patronus charm. Fearing it to be a difficult spell, he had decided to prepare in advance for the dementors. But to his pleasant surprise he was extremely good at the spell and had a corporeal Patronus with the form of an ocelot before the month was out. He hadn't needed to struggle for memories. He had the memory of realising he had woken up in the Potterverse and that would carry him throughout his life.

Another important discovery was the reason for Ollivander's request to return the next year for a check on the wand. He realised over the course of the year that the wand had slowly increased in its potency and amplification. After running some tests and observations, he found that the wand seemed to resonate with him. He supposed that it was a combination of the similarities in the essence of the wand and him. Wand were made of magical cores to further amplify and focus the casters magic and his resonance with his wand further promoted that and developed the wand into a greater casting aide. He couldn't wait to run his conjecture by Ollivander, but he had a hunch that he was right. Well, he wasn't complaining. Which witch or wizard wouldn't want a wand that evolved as they developed their own magical powers.

The end of year tests went well, just as he had expected and he passed with flying colours in each exam. He was the topper in his year. Unfortunately, he hadn't managed to make enough of a difference that Gryffindor won the house cup and it went to Ravenclaw instead, with Gryffindor a close second.

The Weasley twins had invited him to The Burrow during the second month of the holidays and he had had happily accepted after running it by his mother. The twins and he planned to use the time to further improve their products to the level where they became a viable business option. It was going to be a fun summer and he looked forward to it.

The year was finally over and the first years made their way across the lake and reached the station. They would be taking the coaches starting next year and he wondered if he would be able to see the Thestrals. He had died himself after all. Finally, the train left the platform and they were off for home. He was in a compartment with the twins and Lee Jordan and made merry the entire way back.

They were finally back at King's cross and he met his mother. He had sorely missed her. He had grown to love her deeply as a mother and was pleased to be back with her. They made their way out of the station as he regaled her with the tales of his year at Hogwarts.


	4. c11

'So, Darius, how come you never mentioned you were a magical prodigy before?'

His mom's question as they boarded Knight bus shook him up. Despite all his efforts to appear relatively normal during his time with his mom and have a normal loving relationship, he never considered the news of his exploits at Hogwarts reaching her ears. It was a big lapse on his part, especially considering he knew about her personal friendship with Professor McGonagall. He decided to try to fudge it a bit and spill the beans if that didn't work.

'Whatever do you mean mum? Who told you I am a prodigy?'

'You do know that I am a long-time friend of Minerva's and also parents can request a copy of the student's grades and a teachers' appraisal from the school.'

At least she was grinning while exposing his secret. She should be in a good mood. And how come nobody mentioned Hogwarts sent home report cards. Anyway, he got a chance to come clean to his mother. He loved her and didn't particularly want to keep secrets from her.

'Mom, I was deeply attracted to magic since I first knew about it. I didn't spend all my childhood casually perusing all those books and tomes, I understood and assimilated all of that knowledge. I didn't want you to think of me as any different from other kids. I really love you but like magic as well. I already practised a lot of magic and that is why everyone thought I was a prodigy.'

'Silly child, you are a prodigy. Let alone being able to perform magic, most kids don't even bother to prepare themselves for it before school. And why hide it from me? I love you as well and will not treat you any differently just because of your curiosity. In fact, I could have helped you out had you asked me earlier. Now, tell me about everything you can do.'

'Mum, I actually started doing magic several years ago and not just since I got my wand. I learnt most spells up to O.W.L.s level and few more extra specials I will soon tell you. But before that, can you tell me what exactly the teachers told you, I'm really curious. But I should tell you, they have only seen what I have decided to show them.'

'O.W.L.s level! And you still have the gall to say that you aren't a prodigy. Anyway, the teachers had lots of praise for you. All the teachers were very impressed with your magical skills and were pleased with your attitude. They did feel that you would be better served going up a year but that's your choice. I am very pleased with your continued potions skill as well.'

'Thanks mum. And I didn't climb up a year because I didn't want to set a precedent for it but I will think about it. Let me start off with one of the more impressive ones.'

And he promptly turned into the ocelot form and then turned back a minute later. His mother was left slack-jawed and just looked at him, blinking her eyes in sheer disbelief.

'Non-verbal complete body self-transfiguration… no that's not it. An Animagus transformation?!! But how……when?'

He admittedly felt awesome to finally show someone his transformation. And it was even more fun to see his mother lose composure like that. She always comported herself well, like a young noble lady and he had never seen her gaping like this.

'I was researching Animagi since before joining school and finally managed to do it just about a couple of months ago. I haven't shown it to anybody yet but now that I can talk to you about all this I wanted to ask you whether it will be better to keep this hidden or apply for a registration at the ministry. I don't mind going either way but I am not fully aware of the potential problems that may arise.'

'Darius, there hasn't ever been a registered case of someone succeeding in this endeavour before they are even of age, let alone as a 11-year-old. Even I can't be sure what ripples this will cause in the magical community. Seeing as you are underage, I think they will let you off any harsher punishment even if you don't register but the Houses and Lords will try to restrict or control you. I think you should wait for at least a couple of years and then reveal it. And be free to consult me on any such problems hereafter. I don't want you catching the attention of any unsavoury types of people. Now, I believe you have some more magic to show me?

'Thanks for the advice, mum. And yes, I do. I already told you about most of my magic being at the O.W.L.s level. I also know intent casting and non-verbal casting. I learnt this in a book while we were in Hogsmeade and have practised it ever since. I can cast all but the most complex spells even while wandless.'

'That's truly impressive Darius. By the way, I happen to know about intent casting too. Only, I am not as good at it as you. It takes a lot of practise and yields better results the sooner you start. Normal wizards condition themselves for years with wand work and it finally becomes a crutch for their magic making it very difficult for them to learn this. I will tell you this though, you need to keep practising this art even after you feel you have perfected it. Whether you realise it or not, this method of magic draws a bit more magic from the caster than with a wand and also causes a slight mental strain. Further practice can bring down the effects to the level a normal spell.'

'I have also learnt the art of rune overlay. I can make minor magical items but with practice, will be able to do much more later. I already have quite a few ideas.'

'That's not a particularly special skill. I know several people who work with runes. Granted, none of them as young as you but that is in fact an advantage for them. Why do you put so much stock by it?'

'The art itself maybe common but what it represents is endless potential. If you have the right ideas and figure out the way to construct them, you will rake in the galleons faster than you can count them. And I am sure my ideas are worth the effort. You just have to wait and see.'

'All this is well and good and I am very proud of what you have achieved, especially considering your age but I am a bit worried of this reaching the wrong ears or getting exposed. Exposing too much talent isn't a great thing in the wizarding world. There are families who would go to any ends to destroy those who stand in their way or infringe on their benefits.'

'I know of a couple of the families you speak of mother. I will be careful. It won't take me long to bring my personal skill up to par and meanwhile I already have precautions against potions like Veritaserum and have practised occlumency to a high level.'

'It seems my boy has an extremely smart head on those shoulders. Well, do what you are saying and develop yourself further. I think it will soon be time before you are invited by the family, maybe as soon as next year and I need to start preparing.'

'What do you mean invited by the family? Whay are you being so cautious towards them?'

'How do I put this?My family is an ancient clan with ties to many other similar families and there is a lot of politics involved. I left the family after marrying your father but they weren't really bothered then. But they now know the extent of my potion skills and word of your talent will soon reach their ears, if it hasn't already. They will try to rope us back in and I want to be prepared to avoid that.'

'Do what you think is best, mum! Just tell me if there is anything I need to do.'

'You don't need to worry Darius. Just focus on what you have been doing till now and we will be just fine. Come, we have had long and rather weighty talks and its time to eat.'

We settled down for the rest of the summer after that and behaved like usual. My mother seemed confident in handling the family and I trusted her. We had a fun summer, though she didn't let me skip on my daily practice. It was fun and we settled into our usual patter.

Finally, the month was almost over and I was ready to head over to the Burrow when I got the letter from Hagrid.

Dear Darius,

How are you doing during the summer break? It's been swell for me over here. Anyways I wanted to talk to you about that offer about taking a trip together sometime that you made last year. I know it isn't a trip to see magical creatures but I got an important task from Dumbledore and having you along would help a lot. It should be a treat for you too. It's fine if can't make it. Just send a reply by owl asap.

Cheers,

Hagrid

I had nearly forgotten that it was Harry's birthday soon. I sent Dusk to Hagrid with a yes and we decided to meet at the Leaky Cauldron in a couple of days.

I have also been arguing with myself within my head about how involved I should be in Harry's life and the number of reasons not to do so are rapidly piling up. I finally decided to be there only as a elder figure and help him out when he really needs it. Guess that means I need to write a letter to McGonagall.


	5. c12

He was waiting at the Leaky cauldron for Hagrid. It was a dark and shabby looking place with its only claim to fame being the entrance to Diagon alley. He had never been here before though, since his mother and him always came to their shop directly via floo powder. Five minutes later, Hagrid walked into the bar, crouching as he did so.

'Hi there Darius! Thanks, fer agreeing to come along. Hope I didna' make you wai' for a long while. I got held up a bit. Let's get goin' now. Don't want to waste time now, do we?'

'You still haven't told me what we're supposed to be doing, Hagrid.'

'Right yeh are! Well, what d'yeh know about Harry Potter?'

'I know about the story. About how Voldemort tried to kill him and was vanquished himself, leaving nothing but a scar on Harry's forehead. Everyone in the wizarding community knows about the Boy who lived.'

'Absolutely righ'. What we are goin' to do is go and explain to him about Hogwarts an' help him ter get his stuff. I think it will be simpler if yeh are there with me when I have ter talk to him.'

Hagrid sent the letters to Harry, like canon and then we finally left for the rock-on-the-hut to get him. Hagrid's knocks rattled the doors and we could hear Vernon inside screaming something about how he was armed. Hagrid broke the door by the hinges and strode inside and I just followed him to see the Dursley's all crowding together with Vernon holding a gun and Harry sitting on the floor staring towards us. Hagrid walked over and sat on the sofa looked towards Harry.

'An' here's Harry! Las' time I saw you, you were only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes.'

Vernon chose that moment to try and interrupt after having gathered up his courage.

'I demand that you leave at once, sir! You are breaking and entering!'

Hagrid shut him up by merely taking the gun from his arms and twisting it in a knot as if made of rubber and flung it back at him.

'Anyway – Harry, a very happy birthday to yeh. We got summat fer yeh here – I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right.'

It was a cake we got for him and I selected a much better than the one in canon. Harry finally brought himself to speak.

'Who are you?'

'True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. And this 'ere is Darius Icarus, a personal frien' o' mine and the topper o' the firs' years. He came along to help me out.'

'I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are.'

'Call me Hagrid, everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of keys at Hogwarts – yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course.'

'Er, no. Sorry.'

'Sorry? It's them who should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't getting' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents leaned it all?'

'All what?'

'ALL WHAT? Now wait jus' one second!' Hagrid leapt to his feet in anger and the Dursleys cowered against the wall. He looked ready to tear them limb from limb. I stepped in then to placate him and get this episode over with.'

'Hagrid, he doesn't seem to know anything. From what I can tell his relatives have kept everything a secret from him. It will be simpler if we just lay it out to him straight and get this over with.

Harry, there happens to be a certain part of society magical in nature. We wizards and witches have been around for ages and co-exist on some level with muggles I.e., non-magical people. You are one of us and we are here to invite you to greatest wizarding school in the country.'

'How? What? What do you mean? I m-mean I can't be a wizard?'

'You are a wizard, Harry. Haven't you had strange incidents or occurrences around you when you are upset or angry. Of course, you have. You are a wizard and will be going to Hogwarts like we said to be taught how to use your magic.'

Hagrid then explained to Harry his significance in the magical community and how his parents finally passed away. After a bit more of an altercation with Vernon, Harry finally knew about his history. Hagrid also tried to tell Harry further about Hogwarts.

'You'll learn real magic an' you'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled-' 'I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!'

But Vernon Dursley had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head in a positively scary fashion for a mere umbrella and jabbed it towards Dursley.

'NEVER- INSULT – ALBUS – DUMBLEDORE – IN – FRONT – OF – ME!'

And promptly transfigured a pig's tail onto Dudley's rear, exactly like canon. It was hilarious. I bet the twins would have loved to see this.

We spent the night in the hut, I sneakily used some magic to make it more comfortable for ourselves. The next morning, I dropped the two of them outside the leaky cauldron and headed to Ollivander's.

I had promised to meet him after a year and it was time. I stepped into Ollivander's and the place was just as eerie as last time.

'Mr Ollivander, it's Darius here. I came with my wand as you had asked.'

'Ah, Mr Icarus! A pleasure to see you. I have been looking forward to meeting you again. And I can already see that the resonance between your wand and you has increased.'

'I thought the resonance was something you used to tell the affinity between a magician and a wand. What do you mean it has increased?'

'What I mean to say, Mr Icarus, is that the resonance between a wand and its owner isn't static. It may increase or even decrease, though the latter is extremely rare. The similarity of essences, time spent together and the power of the wand itself are factors in how the wand develops. And I have to say, Mr Icarus, as far as I can tell, yours is developing rather nicely.'

'How exactly does this benefit me?' While I can tell using the wand is a bit easier for me and the spells are a bit more powerful, what else can you tell me?'

'Your wand is still developing, Mr Icarus. I know the rate now. Come back after another 2-3 years and bring the wand. I'll tell you about one of the greatest wands in history...and how your wand is following in its footsteps.'

I was shown out the door after that cryptic comment. Well, maybe cryptic according to him but the only wand I know of that can be called the greatest would be the Elder wand. What could my wand have in common with the Hallow?

I put all that out of my mind for the moment and headed for the Burrow. The Knight bus took me till the village of Ottery St Catchpole, where the twins and Charlie were waiting for me.

Charlie cast a disillusionment charm on the trunk and they took off for the Burrow levitating the trunk along with them.

'So, Darius, are you going to be joining our year soon?', Fred asked.

Darius was startled. 'How did you know about that Fred? Professor McGonagall did make an offer to me last year but I hadn't accepted at that time but changed my mind over the summer. I sent her an owl asking about it and am expecting a letter back any day now.'

'Don't underestimate the elves at Hogwarts, Darius. They hear everything. One of them whom I know well overheard Flitwick and McGonagall talking about it.'

I turned to Charlie to talk to him. ' So, Charlie, what are you doing now that you have completed school? Working with dragons somewhere, no doubt?'

'Actually Darius, we get to select our profession before clearing the N.E.W.T.s itself and if our grades are satisfying the requirements, we go ahead and start the job. I should be receiving the grades by owl soon. I already have a job in Romania as a dragon-wrangler lined up and only need to get the grades before moving there.'

Meanwhile, we had made it to the Burrow already. It was quite a strange sight. The building had a normal design at the bottom and then different room seemed to be just added on top at random. There were chickens clucking around in the yard and a collection of wellingtons and rusty cauldrons next to the yard. As they came near the house, they could see Ron flying on his broomstick and Ginny sitting on the lawn and watching. Percy wasn't visible, probably studying in his room. Mrs Weasley just waked out and headed towards them.

'Hi dear, the twins mentioned you quite a few times and I am very pleased to have you over at our house. Make yourself at home and enjoy your vacation.'

'Thanks, Mrs Weasley. I am looking forward to it. And I have a lot of plans I need to work on with the twins.'

'Just take care not to blow up the house. You should also meet my youngest son and my daughter. Ron, Ginny, come over and meet Darius. He'll be staying over for the rest of summer.'

'Hey Ron, Ginny! Fred and George mentioned you a couple of times before. Ron, I suppose you'll be starting school this term. And don't look so glum at that Ginny, it'll just be another year before you can join as well.'

Ron was just as I expected him to be. He seemed to be lazy and had no motivation. Ginny on the other hand, was a delight to meet. I spoke to her further for a while more and she was very pleasant. I admit I had a bit of a crush on Ginny's character before. But this is a real world now, let's see how it goes. We headed in for a sumptuous lunch after that.

I spent a pleasant few days at the Burrow and got to know all the people personally. Percy had gotten his prefect badge a few days ago and we had another celebration about that. Ginny and I got along swell and I had taken to giving her magic tips when I had the time. Though not as obsessed with magic as I was, she did love it and listened to me very carefully. Bill was off for work and Gringotts and rarely came home. Charlie also got the letter about his N.E.W.T.s. He had gotten the required grades and immediatelyowled a letter of to accept his job in Romania. He would be moving out in about a month to work with the dragons there and seemed really excited about it.

I myself got a letter from Professor McGonagall, citing the acceptance of my transfer from 2nd year to 3rd and a request to send a letter with my choice of electives asap. The given choices were Arithmancy, Muggle Studies, Divination, Study of Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures. I filled in Study of Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and Care of Magical creatures as my electives and sent it to the school. I didn't need to worry about buying the books as I have had the required books for quite a while now.

The twins had chosen the electives of Muggle studies and Care of Magical creatures and we would have the rest of the classes in common. I wonder if they chose muggle studies because of their father or were just trying to slack of. Though they did have a muggle tricks part in their shop later so they likely were familiar with muggle knowledge. They had also bred miniature puffskeins and dealt with other magical creatures in their shop, so, I suppose their care of magical creatures paid off as well.

We had started working together on some of the goods for our Owl Order service and made quite a lot of progress. My proficiency with potions coupled with the twins' genius and we came up with the entire set of skiving snackboxes. Fainting fancies, Nosebleed nougat, Puking pastilles and Fever fudges – we had them all. The twins promised to handle the trials themselves. Our work was clear-cut, I would do the initial financing, I was filthy rich after all, and the twins would handle the other work. We worked together on the products. The twins kept surprising me with their ideas and I realised just how much they were underestimated. They were honestly brilliant and it was a treat seeing them come up with their ideas. George was working on the extendable ears while Fred tinkered with fake wands and canary creams. It was awesome to see all this being made and we were in full swing seeing the ideas come to fruition. I even showed them the Marauder's map version that I was making and they were mighty impressed. We were going to sell it off as self-filling maps. I wasn't going to sell the advanced version which tracks others, even when I managed to create it. It might end up in the wrong hands.

Meanwhile, I also received an owl, or rather, several owls carrying a single package from my mom. It was rather obvious due to its shape and the other Weasley kids crowded around when they saw it. The Nimbus 2000 was admired from every single angle before it was finally back in my hands. My mom must have felt I deserved a reward for my performance last year and congratulations for skipping a grade, and sent this to me. All of us took turns flying in the garden. Ginny was spectacular, as I had expected, leaving even her brothers stunned.

All too soon, it was the last week of the vacations. We were going to go to King's Cross in the Weasley's Ford Anglia. The car had an excellent extension charm on it and we all fit into the car easily. We all left for the station on September 1st and reached there with 15 mins to spare. Time to go to Hogwarts again!


	6. 1320 (04-25 19:14:51)

C 13

We had about 15 mins in hand and quickly made our way to the barrier to 9 platform. I noticed Harry coming our way as Percy went across and walked over.

'Hi Harry! Searching for the platform.'

'Hi Darius! Its great to see you. And yes, I'm searching for the platform. Hagrid gave me the ticket but never explained how to get to the platform. I've already been here quite a while and was wondering if we had to take our wands out and start tapping the bricks.'

'Not quite, Harry. There is a magical barrier in place, right over there and you just have to rush through it and you'll make it to the platform. Best jog a little, if you are nervous. But before that, come over and meet the Weasley's, they are a family in the magical community and I stayed over the latter part of summer with them.'

I took him along and walked back to the others. They were all waiting there to see who I was bringing along.

'People, meet Harry Potter, the boy who lived. Harry, meet the Weasley's. That's the twins, Fred and George Weasley, that's Ron, he is joining Hogwarts this year too and she is Ginny, she'll join the next year.'

The Weasley's all broke into chatter when they heard his name. I couldn't help but sneak a glance at Ginny to see her reaction. She looked a bit curious but not star-struck like I had expected. I unconsciously relaxed and also realised at that moment that I kind of liked the cheeky younger Weasley girl.

Mrs Weasley and I had to chivvy them all along, so that we made the train. We quickly piled in and made it just in time. We waved goodbye to Mrs Weasley and Ginny and then headed to different compartments. Harry and Ron headed another way to find an empty compartment while the twins and I searched for Lee Jordan, who had agreed to meet us on the train. We found him soon enough and took a compartment for ourselves. Lee already knew about the map from the twins, so I could take out my own version and we all tried to brainstorm on how to further improve it. The trolley witch came by and he bought enough treats for everyone. They soon got tired of working and switched to talking about Hogwarts, their lessons and playing games.

Soon enough they had made it to Hogsmeade and the students alighted from the train. While the first years were lead away by Hagrid, the seniors headed towards the track outside where hundreds of horseless stagecoaches were parked. Well, horseless to the others, Darius could clearly see the Thestrals tethered to the coaches. The creatures may be regarded as omens of death and had various superstitions surrounding the, nobody who could see them would deny that they had a regal air to them. The skeletal horse-like creatures with their large bat wings and draconic heads looked rather more dangerous than their skinny frames would suggest, but he had a feeling they would never hurt him. He stroked the creatures head and threw it half the roast he had left and saw it snap it up in a single gulp. The others had boarded the coach and didn't notice. He also got on and the coach trundled its way through the wrought iron gates of Hogwarts.

All of them entered the great hall and took their seats. He sat with the twins and Lee and started chatting while waiting for the sorting to start. Soon enough, the first years were lead in and the sorting began. It went exactly as per canon and finished soon. Harry and Ron came over and sat near them. Hermione and Percy were sitting directly opposite him. The food appeared and all the students started digging in. Before long, the feast was over and it was time for the headmaster to give his welcome speech.

'Ahem -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And lastly, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.'

There was an outbreak of muttering at that and Percy seemed visibly indignant that the prefects had not been informed about this. Dumbledore waited for the sound to die down before continuing. We then sang the school song before retiring to our dorms.

I started my inner magic channelling exercise after getting into bed and drawing the curtains of my four-poster bed. I had gotten extremely efficient at it by now and effortlessly started the exercise. It had been a long time since I had to last sleep. While I did occasionally take a nap to relax a bit, it wasn't really necessary anymore.

What this channelling was predicated on, was that magical power could be treated just as any other muscle in the body. Repeated exercise further strengthened it and my method of channelling was nothing more than manipulating magic through every part of my body. Another thing of note is that unlike in the eastern tales of dantians or cores, our magic is not centralized to one region and is spread throughout the body. Channelling in effect is exercising each cell of the body in the most precise manner, leading to optimal body growth. That's why I always look slightly mature for my age. The effects of doing this since early childhood are already showing and my magic capacity is already past the average level of 7th year students and should be at the levels of a qualified wizard before the year is out. While skill and knowledge of spells is important in determining strength, no one can deny that it also helps a lot to have a lot of magical capacity to back that up.

I woke up early, or rather finished my meditation, early in the morning and headed down to the great hall for breakfast after freshening up. While I was on my second plate of bacon, eggs and toast, the twins sauntered in and took up seats beside me. We all had our breakfast while talking about the upcoming lessons. While the twins may joke around about their marks and exams, they took the magical knowledge seriously. They just didn't want to put any extra effort into it. The hall had started rapidly filling up by now and they noticed Professor McGonagall making her down the table towards them. She came to a halt by Darius.

'Good morning, Mr Icarus! I am glad you decided to advance a year in your studies. It would be a much better atmosphere to have you with students closer to your own level. I have high hopes from you and am expecting an excellent showing this year too.

Now, I presume you had enough time to get your new books. You may request an older copy from your teachers as a temporary measure if you don't. Then, off to class with all of you. Its already time.'

The first day of classes had charms and transfiguration and he performed just as splendidly in them as he did in first year and earned himself a load of house points. It wasn't really difficult when your studies were a minimum of two years ahead of the rest of the class. He was extremely proficient in the theory due to his own enhanced mental levels as well as the self-made spell 'fortis memoriae'.

McGonagall was extremely pleased even let him off without homework. Flitwick also had some interesting news to deliver. He took Darius aside after the class and told him that he had pitched the idea of a duelling club to the headmaster and it had been approved. It was to be held from a couple of months hence on a weekly basis. Darius was especially excited about this. While knowing spells was all well and good, using them in a combat situation was an altogether different ball game. Learning combat movement spells, duelling shields and chain casting were just some of the things he was anticipating. He also wanted to learn the more destructive spells but he was sure that those wouldn't be taught. While he didn't consider himself to be a dark wizard, he didn't have any qualms using the darker variety of spells, especially on people who intended to harm him or his family. There existed spells such as the bone-breaker curse, blood boiling curse, Fiendfyre and many others and he already had plans on how to get a hold of them. Of course, if those plans failed, he could always sneak into the forbidden section of the library to find them. But his plan would give much better yields if he could get it to work. Well, that would have to wait till next year.

It was on the next day's afternoon, that they had a Care of magical creatures class. They were taught by Professor Silvanus Kettleburn. The man was missing his limbs except one hand and half a leg. Still, he was a renowned magizoologist and was sure to have rich amount of experience. They started off with some theory about the magical creature classifications given by the ministry before quickly moving on to the practical lesson. They studied salamanders and had a very enjoyable class. The professor taught us many facts about them and even threw in a couple of amusing anecdotes. Overall, it was a good first class and he was looking forward to more lessons.

But it was the next class which had him excited. As they walked back to the castle, he could hardly keep himself from rushing to the class. It was the class for Study of ancient runes and the subject which he was the most interested in at the moment. If he got his ideas to work, he would be raking in the galleons. As far as he had gotten in his self-study of the subject and rune overlay, he required a much more thorough understanding of the subject to achieve his aims. He couldn't wait!

C 14

Study of ancient runes was taught by Professor Bathsheda Babbling. She was a relatively young witch and had a good repute amongst students. I was amongst the first to enter the class and watched as the rest of the class filed in. There were fewer students since this was an elective class.

The professor walked in carrying a couple of books and turned to face us.

'Good afternoon students! I am pleased to welcome you to the study of ancient runes class and will be your teacher for the next three years. The study of ancient runes is a complex and esoteric subject and I expect your complete focus when I am teaching. The subject is a theoretical study and we will be doing runic translations and studying manuscripts. While we will be doing theory, who can tell me a possible practical application of the subject.'

Seeing no one had any clue, I raised my hand and spoke up.

'Rune overlay is the practical application of ancient runes.'

'That's correct, Mr Icarus. Take 5 points for Gryffindor. Rune overlay is a rare art. Though it is known to many people, there are very few who have any significant level of proficiency in it. It also doesn't help that the art is highly subjective to the respective caster's intent and may yield different results to other people. But enough of that, let's get down to studying the history of these fascinating runes.'

After that she told us about runic history and old manuscripts that were still in translation. But my mind was mainly fixed on the words just spoken by Professor Bathsheda. Runes were also subjective to the caster's intent, was a concept not explained in my book and this had opened up new pathways for me. While this may be the toughest step of true rune overlaying for others, if I could harmonize it with intent casting properly, it wouldn't just make it easy for me, it would also make my works much better than others.

While we didn't learn anything more in any detail, we were given an overview of various topics. Rune clusters, layered fixing, connector runes and rune circuitry were the topics that particularly stood out. If I was able to learn these topics well enough, I would definitely be able to synthesize objects like mobile phones and other appliances. I could make stuff which haven't even been made by muggles yet and are only theoretical as off now, like smartphones.

We finished the class and headed down to the great hall for our dinner. It had been a very interesting day and I had a lot of ideas I needed to work on. Having an invisibility cloak would help a lot. I could spend the nights at the room of equirement. A mere disillusionment charm is not enough. It is good for long distances but might be seen through at closer distances. But I have a workaround. I made a batch of invisibility potion when I was in mom's shop and have several vials of the stuff. Though it is not very long lasting, I can use it at critical moments. So, I can sneak around the castle with a disillusionment charm and take a potion if I am in danger of being caught.

I carried out my plans over the next few days and it went off without a hitch. I didn't even have to use a potion. I did have to use 'muffliato' and hide in a corner when Peeves went by rattling armour suits but otherwise, it was fine. I had two main foci now. One was creating the magical version of muggle products and the other was using the principles of rune overlay to store spells in objects. While runes are convenient for activating various effects, using them to store spells is not a possibility. What I can do, is use an object capable of holding magic and start the preparatory phase to inlay runes and then cast the spell and fortify it with 'fianto duri'. The spell would settle in the object and held in place with 'fianto duri', a few rune circuits and you can key it with an activation sequence and use it as a single-use item. The draw backs were that the maker of the spellstone would have to know the spell themselves and the magic in it would eventually weaken after a long duration but it was good item for when you are in a pinch as it will allow you to cast even complicated spells immediately. A little more research was needed to put the theory into practice but I should be capable of producing them en masse by the end of the year.

I used the next several classes to strike up a conversation with Professor Bathsheda and she was happy to help me with any queries I had. My work progressed speedily and I couldn't be happier. The room of requirement was truly a blessing. I could practice on endless objects and had all the required materials in large quantities.

At lunch, I met the twins and they let me know about Harry's inclusion into the Gryffindor quidditch team and asked me to come by for the next practice to have a look over for the team. I was rather happy about this, not because of Harry getting in the team but because events were still happening in the same manner as the original timeline. My presence in the world could easily change many events but that would lead to losing my advantage of knowing future events. I wanted to maintain the timeline as much as possible for now.

Another significant event was Harry, Hermione, Ron and Neville walking near the trophy room near midnight. If I am not mistaken, they were going to the trophy room for the fake challenge initiated by Draco Malfoy. Then they would be chased by Filch into the third-floor corridor where Fluffy was kept. Further evidence that time was moving in the same manner.

Harry also got the Nimbus 2000 the next morning at breakfast. Harry and Ron had a minor altercation with Malfoy before leaving the hall. I was headed up to the dorm anyway and ran into them having an argument with Hermione. The poor girl always drew the short stick with having to deal with the naïve Harry and irritating Ron. I caught up to her before she flounced off.

'Hey Hermione! Let's go to the library. We'll get to talk a little.'

'Darius!! Thanks for the offer, but I want to be by myself for a while. You don't have to trouble yourself.'

'Nonsense! Do you think you are the only one who likes the library. Anyways, I heard what Ron said and you don't need to take it to heart. I spent the latter part of the summer over at his house to work with his twin brothers and I know he is a prat. Now, come on. Maybe, I can help you out with your studies.'

After that we spent a couple of hours in the library. She was a quick learner and I helped her get ahead of the curve in a few subjects. I also spoke to her about trying to be better friends with Harry and learning to take it easy. She was the first person close to my age that could be a mental match for me and we had a great time. Not that I held any romantic feelings for her yet but it was nice to have someone to talk to like this. She seemed in a better mood by end when it was time for us to go for our classes. I also offered to sit a couple of times a week to further help out with her studies. If she has the brains and the skill, she should put it to good use to improve.

Time quickly flew by with the busy schedule and it was soon Halloween. Hermione and I had struck up a good rapport and she was on good terms with Harry too. Though she and Ron were like ice and fire. Flitwick was very excited about the duelling club which would start in about 2 weeks.

We even had a Hogsmeade trip on Halloween. I was technically a third year despite being a year younger than others and since I easily got permission from my mother by owl, I was allowed to go. The twins, Lee and I had a lot of fun and spent a good amount of time in Zonllo's, discussing how we could come up with better products.

Even my mother showed up halfway through and after apologising to my friends for leaving halfway through, I spent the rest of the day with her. It was nice to see her mid-session and we made full use of that. We had a couple of butterbeers at the three broomsticks before walking around Hogsmeade, reminiscing about the village. It soon started getting dark and my mother had to leave. I also rushed back to the castle. I didn't know if Quirrell would release a troll like before and I wanted to be there, just I case. Hermione shouldn't have any reason to be in a washroom today but I didn't want to take the risk of her being stuck with a troll.

On the note of Quirrell, I thought long and hard about what route to take but finally decided to guide everything as per canon and let time take its own route. Exposing him would be very tough to explain away and would also set a target on my back for Voldemort.

The meal had barely started when Quirrell rushed in with a pale face and collapse after informing us about trolls. I almost applauded the guy for his masterful acting. Had it not been for my foreknowledge, I would have easily fallen for the acting and believed him to be completely innocent.

Thankfully, Hermione was sitting at the table and having her dinner. I snuck away from the prefects while they were leading us to our dorms and headed towards the girls washroom on the floor. Soon enough, I smelled a rotten stench that could only be the troll and headed towards it, after first disillusioning myself and also casting a bubble-headed charm to keep the smell out. The troll was lumbering along the corridor and I took my position

Using the 'glisseo' spell, I made the floor frictionless and caused it to slip and fall with an almighty crash. Then, as per canon, a hovering charm to take the dropped club and dropped it on the troll's head from a height, knocking it out. Nothing fancy, but it got the job done. I then high-tailed it out of there and to the Gryffindor dorms.

There was a simple reason for doing what I did. I couldn't allow the troll to rampage any further or harm someone else and cause changes in the timeline. But, I also didn't want the title of a hero or to bring myself to the attention of Dumbledore. So, I resolved the issue quickly and with nobody the wiser for it. All in a day's work.

C 15

The entire student body was thrumming with excitement regarding the upcoming duelling club. Though the first years weren't all too pleased about the club being only for those 2nd year and above. Professor Flitwick had a reputation as a duelling champion in his glory days and students were itching to get started with the lessons.

I was pretty excited about the whole affair as well. I had learnt many of the basic duelling spells but using them well in an actual duel would require experience and a good teacher. I was also curious about who would assist Flitwick in the club. Of course, he may do it single-handedly but an additional professor should help a lot. At the very least, it wouldn't be a farce like Lockhart and Snape's lesson.

The class was starting from 7pm and the great hall was already crowded at half-past six. There were about 20 duelling platforms set up. Today's class was for 2nd and 3rd years only. Finally, Professor Flitwick walked in followed by, to my utter delight, Professor McGonagall. Now, we had two teachers, who are among the best at duelling in Hogwarts, teaching us.

'Listen up, students. I would like all of you to approach the central platform. Professor McGonagall and I are going to demonstrate a duel and tell you about duelling customs before you pair off and duel each other. I am extremely thankful that she consented to join our lesson. You are going to be watching the most formidable witch at Hogwarts in action. Gather around now.'

'We start of duels with a bow towards our opponents. It's a mark of respect and not doing it is seen as mocking or disrespecting the opponent. Then we hold the wands like a sword, which is the combat position and thereafter we start duelling on the count of three.'

'It is as Professor Flitwick said, students. We will now show a demonstration and would like students to observe from a distance. Keep in mind, a real duel is much more dangerous. We will be using the spells verbally to show them to you. We will also not use higher speeds, so that you may appreciate a true wizarding duel. Obviously, lethal spells are out of question.'

'Ah, before we begin, I would like to give credit to Mr Icarus for the idea of a duelling club. I appreciate the need for students to know how to defend oneself. Now let us begin. Mr Darius, I trust you can be the referee?'

'Of course!'

The professors bowed, turned and walked 10 paces before turning back with their wands in combat stance. It was time to initiate the duel.'

'Wands at the ready?'

'Ready.'

'Ready.'

'3...2...1'

And the professors began. No words can simply describe the scene. Even though they said they would slow down, their wands were nearly a blur. They were smoothly chain-casting a multitude of spells and were at par to each other. It was glorious!

'Stupefy!'

'Protego!'

'Expelliarmus!'

'Expulso!'

'Incendio!'

'Aguamenti!'

'Confringo!'

'Impedimenta!'

'Incarcerous!'

'Petrificus Totalus!'

And so, on they went for nearly a minute. They swung, whipped and jabbed their wands, smoothly flowing from a spell to the next, ducking and weaving to dodge spells, as they stepped closer and finally ended the duel when they were just 7-8 feet from each other.

'There you are students, a wizarding duel. Admittedly true duels are even faster and more lethal, not to mention often done non-verbally, this much is more than sufficient to carry you forward for quite some time. I realise many of you may not be familiar with the spells used today but we will walk you through that over the next few weeks.'

' Now, students pair up with each other and we will let you on the stage by turns, where you will attempt to duel each other. We will offer our advice based on the performance and then the next pair will step forward.'

The twins immediately paired with each other and I stood by Lee Jordan. The other students quickly paired up and were sent up to the stage in quick succession. Wizarding duels are generally very brief in nature. Each witch or wizard's goal is to quickly incapacitate the opponent and thus they never last too long. Additionally, with all of us being students, we have a limited spell repertoire and magical strength. Most people were only capable of disarming or stunning. Few of the better informed came out with more, but they were few are far between. Finally, it was over for the 2nd years and it was our chance to go on the stage. The two central stages were being refereed by Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, while the rest were being used by students who already had their chances for further practice. The 3rd years did put up a better show but not by much.

And then, it was the twins' turn. They performed the courtesies and took their stances. Then they started! It was amazing! They were among the best I saw today. They were shooting spells as if they had been practicing for days and ducked and weaved like experts, most likely their quidditch reflexes at play. And there was a strange synchronization between the two, as they seemed to effortlessly duel each other. The duel ended only after 3 min when George got a lucky hit with a leg-locker curse 'locomotor mortis'. They were even praised by the professors for their skill.

There were a few good duels but nothing particularly eye-catching before it was our turn. Lee and I headed to the stage and faced each other. We bowed and retreated ten paces from the centre before facing each other again and assuming our duelling stance. Professor McGonagall was refereeing and started off the match.

I was faster and started first. Though I didn't use non-verbal spells to keep it sporting and also to not reveal my full capabilities.

'Petrificus Totalus!'

'Protego!'

'Incendio!'

'Repulso!'

'Tarantallegra!'

'Finite Incantatem! Expell-'

'Stupefy!'

I managed to stun him soon enough after I got him with a 'tarantallegra'. He was unable to cast the next spell in time after undoing the jinx. It was a fun duel but didn't really push me to my limits. I even tried to chain-cast but it wasn't too successful. Chain-casting is basically firing off spells in quick succession, one after another. The important part is the wand movement, it should flow smoothly from one spell to the next. My control of magical powers was more than sufficient to fire off multiple spells in succession but the wand movement isn't quite as practised. Well, nothing a little extra practice can't fix. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall had headed over to speak to us.

'Well done, Mr Jordan. You were adept at your spells but try practising further to speed up the process. You can head to one of the other stages and practise further with different opponents.

Excellent duelling, Mr Icarus. You have proven your skill on the duelling platform as well. I also happened to notice you trying to chain-cast. The sudden wand movements are easily identified as novice chain-cast attempts. Though I would normally dissuade students from these attempts and let them simply practice their spells further, I see you have no particular need to do so. The simple trick is to keep practising against many and varied opponents and gain experience. You need to be able to focus on the opponent's spell, counter them and use your next spell in a fraction of a moment. Only experience can help you there.'

I heeded her advice and kept moving from stage to stage and having duels with everyone. It was fun and I got faster at casting my spells as well. I just couldn't get the knack of chaining spells yet. It's not a problem though, I can keep practising though, there are many classes to go.

The lesson ended after two hours. The students were still in high spirits and even the professors were smiling at the enthusiastic students. I had had an undefeated streak through the lesson. I even duelled Fred and then George towards the end of the lesson and I was able to best them. Both were an excellent match though and took the defeat with great poise and promised to be a better match next time. The professors wrapped up for the day and left after commending the students for an excellent performance and that the next class would be in about 2 weeks.

Now duelling was another thing he had to add to his practice list. The room of requirement would be able to give him everything required to practice like targets and mannequins. Most people would not even be considering practising or doing so many things at the same time but he had spent enough time in his previous life being told he can't do something. Now, he would do whatever he wanted.

C 16

It had been a few months since the duelling club had been established and Darius' reputation as an expert duellist had already spread throughout the school. The classes were held in batches with the 2nd and 3rd years, 4th and 5th years and 6th and 7th years placed together. Though he only had classes with his own batch, he had been challenged to a few informal duels by seniors and he had beat-down all of them. He was also able to chain-cast easily now and the professors were very impressed by him.

His classes had also been going swell. He was acing all his classes and even Snape couldn't find anything to fault him. Though, he supposed it helped that he didn't act too close to Harry Potter. If he did, he bet Snape would make his life miserable no matter his grades. The rest of the teachers were very pleased and were pleased to help him with any doubts he came across in higher grade textbooks.

The twins and him had worked out the majority of products they would be selling via Owl Order Service and had even dragged Lee into their plans. Lee was to be the coordinator, he would take the finished goods from the twins and me and deal with all the selling and delivering business. The twins did most of the manufacturing while I helped out occasionally and I was the financial support. We had been stockpiling goods for a couple of months and would be ready to sell by summer. I had even invited the twins to stay for the summer with me. It would be convenient to get to Diagon Alley and we could fool around a bit.

My runes were coming along nicely as well. I had managed to create spell-imbued runestones, which were essentially one-time use spells. I had a few powerful healing ones stashed in my robes which would automatically activate when I received any significant injuries. I was halfway there to making cell phones. I currently had something like walkie-talkies which only functioned between paired devices. I wanted them to be able to connect to any device like cell phones. It was only a matter of time before I was successful. The other thing I was concentrating on making was a spatial bag. While extension charms were enough for storing lots of material, they were still able to be scanned using powerful detectors. A spatial bag would twist space itself in a localized area into a sub-dimension, thus preventing any sort of scan. If I ever had to hide away something well, this would come in very useful.

My occlumency had also reached very high levels. I only wondered about if the room of requirement could help me train it in anyway. It's very hard to train the skill if you don't have a partner to help you. The room of requirement came up with a cubicle like device which increased mental pressure the longer you sat inside it. While it didn't help you learn the intricacies of occlumency, it was very helpful in increasing the sheer mental strength of a person. I was very confident that even the likes of Snape would have a tough time even getting into my mind, let alone doing it without my knowledge.

Christmas rolled around and I sent presents to my mom and all my friends. I sent her a necklace with a rune inlaid pendant. The rune would heal her using her own magic automatically if she was injured. I sent the twins andLee some of the best goods money could buy at Zonko's. I sent Harry the potion's textbook of Lily, that I had found in my childhood and Hermione a set of useful books for Defence against the Dark arts. God knows she would need it the next year. I got Hagrid a cookery book. He really needs to learn what normal people eat.

Hagrid was good company when I visited him sometimes. He was exceptionally knowledgeable regarding magical creatures and always had something new to tell me. He even took me to see the thestral herd at my request. He was surprised I even knew about it and had said that the majority of students finished their student life at Hogwarts without ever seeing them. They were in a slightly deeper part of the forest and Hagrid took along pheasants to feed them. The thestrals had a sort of regal air to them and I couldn't help but be drawn to them. Maybe it had something to do with my wand or my essence as Ollivander had put it. They too, were very comfortable around me and I even rode them a few times.

I figured, if the death essence led to my affinity with the thestrals, there ought to be creatures for the life essence too. Off the top of my head I could only think of Unicorns and Hagrid easily obliged to show them to me. They were magnificent creatures. It was like all sorts of positive feelings were simply radiating from their bodies and spreading around. They too, were very friendly with me. Hagrid was very surprised and told me that the unicorns generally preferred females over males and it was rare they got close to one.

It was fun to see all these magical creatures but the one I wanted to really see should be arriving any day now. The Norwegian ridgeback egg that Hagrid wins from the disguised Quirrell. He should be getting it soon and I really wanted to have a look at it. Of course, I wasn't going to bumble around till it was too late like the trio in the canon storyline, and let Charlie know asap, so that he could have it taken over to Romania.

Finally, when I went to Hagrid's hut one evening, it was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. I immediately looked closer and saw the black egg laying in the fire. It was the dragon egg. Hagrid caught me staring and gave a resigned sigh.

'I s'pose you a'ready figur'd it out, didn't ya? Shouldn't be too har' wit' brains like yours. I won this dragon egg off a cloaked fella over at the Hog's head in Hogsmeade. It a beau, ain't it?

'Yes hagrid, I figured it out. It wasn't too hard. But don't you feel it's too suspicious that the one thing you want most, just happens to be with a guy drinking in Hogsmeade and you manage to win it off him.'

'O' course not! There's lots of shady folk who go to the Hog's head. Cloaks are quite common there, ter be hones'.'

'Well, can't be helped if you don't see it. The main point is you can't have a dragon in your hut and not just because it is illegal. I know what you'll say, that you will be able to control it and that it'll be fine. But you can only do that while it is still young. So, I suggest you write a letter to Charlie when it is hatched and have him take it over to the wild in Romania. You can spend the interim period with the dragon and then see it off.'

'I know what you sai' makes sense, but I really don' wanna do it. I wan' to raise all by meself. But... I guess it is better to write to Charlie. He'll treat it alrigh'.'

'Excellent. And don't forget to send an owl to me when its hatching. See ya, Hagrid!'

'Thanks Darius, fer helpin' me out. Goodbye.'

I occasionally popped over to have a look at the egg after that but it was always just the same. It was also swelteringly hot in the hut and I left quickly. But a couple of weeks later, I received a letter that made me grin. He had written only two words: It's hatching.

I bolted over after lessons and found that the trio were already there. They seemed a bit surprised to see me there but they calmed down soon after. They knew I was on good terms with Hagrid. We had even met each other a couple of times when we were visiting the hut. From what I knew, Harry was on good terms with both of them while Ron and Hermione were just on speaking terms.

C 17

The exams had come up at the end of year. It was a breeze for Darius though. Not only did he ace both the theoretical and practical exams, he even helped the twins and Lee. He gave them quite a few runestones enchanted with the 'fortis memoriae' spell, a few weeks before the exam. He told them how to use it and it was easy enough. For those capable of wand less magic, it merely required a smidgen of magic to activate it and for others, they needed to just touch the runestone with the tip of their wands. They were astounded when they realised the effects and were sure they would sell like hot cakes when they got their shop started.

Finally, the exams were over and the students were ready to laze around for an entire week before the results were announced. It was time to go for the philosopher's stone. Darius had to plan all his actions carefully. It was a huge advantage to know all the traps and enchantments beforehand. He listed them out in his mind – Hagrid's Cerberus Fluffy, Professor Sprout's Devil's snare, Professor Flitwick's keys, Professor McGonagall's giant chess board, Quirrell's troll, Snape's logic puzzle and finally Dumbledore's enchanted mirror. He already had plans for passing the traps. He also had his runestones as an extra safety measure.

Finally, it was the day of reckoning and he left the common room late at night. He was disillusioned of course, and he headed steadily to the third-floor corridor which had Fluffy inside. He unlocked the door with 'alohomora' and quickly stepped in. Fluffy was sniffing in his direction and started growling as soon as it saw him. Darius was prepared though. He had a runestone with a recorded practice session of the school chorus and he activated it. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased - it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep. He pushed the huge paw off the trapdoor and jumped straight down after opening the door.

He immediately noticed the devil's snare creeping towards him and used 'incendio' to send the vines skittering backwards. He maintained a ring of fire around him as he walked ahead out of the area of the vines and into a stone passageway. He switched to 'lumos' and gradually drew nearer to another light in the distance. It was a huge chamber filled with the winged keys flying around and broomsticks hovering near the wall.

He tried summoning the key first with the 'accio' spell but it didn't work. It had obviously been warded against being summoned. He had no choice, he would have to fly and find the key himself. It would be difficult, more so as he didn't have Harry's advantage of searching for a key with deformed wings. He spent nearly 20 mins before finding the large silver key with bright blue wings which matched the door handle. He caught it without much trouble and unlocked the door. He released it after fixing it using 'reparo' and headed forward to the next chamber which flooded with light when he entered.

It was the giant chessboard transfigured by Professor McGonagall. He was not the best player of chess around but should be good enough to beat a magically transfigured side. He took the position of the king, it would be the safest. He got the white side and started the game. He directed the pieces around the board and as time passed more pieces were being destroyed. He wasn't as skilled in the game as Ron but had enough mental acuity to think several moves ahead and finally came out ahead. He managed the win by sacrificing several of his own pieces before finally checkmating the king. The pieces gave way and he saw the door at the other end of the hall. He saw the pieces reforming themselves and taking their places on the board as he left.

He entered the next door and the stench nearly knocked him unconscious right there. He used the bubble-headed charm and went ahead to meet the troll. He took it out with no trouble whatsoever using exactly the same method as last time. First, send it tumbling by making the floor absolutely smooth with 'glisseo' and then use its own club to smack it unconscious with the levitating charm 'wingardium leviosa'. He was sure that the troll would recover in no time due to their tenacious vitality and have no traces left of its defeat. He was careful to leave no traces of his visit in each of the tests. It would not be pleasant if Voldemort realised that someone had stolen the stone beforehand.

The next test was Snape's logic test and he read the riddle and solved it in almost no time. It wasn't particularly difficult and he got through easily, though most wizards might have gotten stuck at this stage. He headed through the flames and finally reached the final chamber. The Mirror of Erised stood there, right in the centre of the room. He walked down the steps and stood right in front of the mirror. He was curious as to what he would see in the mirror.

He was not surprised by what he saw. He was standing with his mother, looking exactly as he did now. A handsome man, whom he recognised from the photographs of him in the house to be his father was walking towards them. Darius himself was casting various magics and a shadowy figure of a girl made its way towards him. He could even see the twins and Lee Jordan in the distance. He was expecting something like this. He was satisfied with living a life with his family. His mother had always been on his side, even when she found out all his secret magical practice. He wished his father was back, not that he particularly had any such desire but for his mother's sake. He had been lost during an expedition in the Mayan ruins and someday in the future he would go to them as well. And magic had been his passion even in his previous life, let alone now, when he was capable of actually performing it. He was curious about the girl. Was it Ginny? Or someone else? And the twins and Lee had become his closest friends and he really liked them.

But all that aside, how would he get the stone when he didn't particularly desire it. Harry himself saw his family in the mirror in normal situations and it was only under the pressure in that situation of facing Voldemort and the desire to keep the stone from him, that he got the stone. Luckily, he had come prepared for this situation. His solution was only possible for those who had the same understanding of the intricacies of runes as him. He would place a memory charm to modify his memories, the same kind that Hermione used on her parents to keep them safe. He would face the mirror and implant fake memories of him being in the same situation as Harry and get the stone that way. He would also activate a runestone beforehand which would release the anti-jinx spell 'finite incantatem' after a duration of one minute. He had made the runestone with every bit of focus he possessed and it was extremely safe. Though it seemed like an easy work-around, it was only possible because he already knew the conditions to get the stone.

It was time to put the theory into practice. He activated the stone and used the memory spell on himself and suddenly his vision seemed to fade out.

Quirrell was right behind him, forcing him to look at the mirror to get the stone. He was going to hand it to Lord Voldemort. He saw his own reflection, pale and scared looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the stone back in its pocket – and as it did so, Darius felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow – incredibly – he'd gotten the stone.

Now he just had to keep that a secret from Quirrell. He was thinking fast, trying to come up with an excuse as to what he saw in the mirror, when he realised it. It was too silent. There didn't seem to be anyone around. He whirled around and saw that Quirrell wasn't there. Then, what about the memory of Quirrell forcing him in front of the mirror on the orders of that creepy voice which could only be Lord Voldemort. And then, his eyes seemed to be losing focus... was this all some sort of trap...was Quirrell nearby...

And he had his memories back! It was so creepy to have a memory from a different point of view. But he chuckled after patting his pocket. The stone was there, he had successfully managed to get it despite all the safeguards. Now he had to get out of here quickly. It had already been a couple of hours since his nightly escapade started and he had to hide the stone properly. Luckily, he had gotten the spatial rune working just a month ago and prepared a couple of them. He kept the stone in one of them and slid it into his pocket. Now, even if there was some sort of locator spell or tracker on it, it wouldn't be found out. The bag made anything inside it unplottable. He used a simple sticking charm to put the second runestone on the very top of the mirror. That particular rune held an enchanted stone very similar in appearance and colour to the actual Philosopher's stone. But it would explode into minute fragments as soon as it was held in anyone's hands longer than a few seconds.

He didn't even hope to fool Lord Voldemort with his clumsy hiding method. Voldemort would likely be able to find it and crack open the rune in a short time. Darius was only delaying him for Harry to catch up and for events to happen as per canon. They would fight and Harry should come out on top, with Dumbledore catching up soon after. They would find the completely shattered stone and likely presume it to be the work of Voldemort. He left the room and headed out quickly. He passed the rooms quickly and finally reached Fluffy again. He had to get it to sleep again, with another rendition of the school chorus, before he was finally able to leave.

He quickly headed back to the Gryffindor dorms, but not before applying the disillusionment charm again. He couldn't afford to make any slip-ups now, not when he was so close to pulling the heist off. He even confunded the Fat lady after giving her the password to get inside the common room. He didn't put it beyond Dumbledore to question the portraits in the castle for any suspicious activity they may have noticed. They all owed their loyalty to the headmaster after all. The confundus charm along with the disillusion charm should be enough to fool her into thinking she was mistaken and nobody had been around.

He lay in his bed and prepared himself for sleeping. It was free time for the next week, while waiting for the results and he was going to lie in late. He didn't generally sleep but he felt as if he deserved it after just pulling off the heist of the decade!

C 18

His plan went off without a hitch. He was in the common room a few days later, when the altercation between Neville and the trio occurred and they had to petrify him and leave. He was sitting in the corner in one of the high-backed chairs and none of them noticed him. He waited a while more before getting up and approached Neville.

'Finite incantatem!'

'Darius! Good, you should be able to stop them. Harry, Ron and Hermione are going somewhere dangerous. Please stop them before it's too late. Not to mention how many points we may lose.'

'Calm down, Neville. I know about Harry and the others. I also know exactly where they are going.'

'You do?'

'Yeah. They are headed to the forbidden third floor corridor, aren't they? The one with the giant three-headed dog? They are going there to protect something very precious from someone dangerous.'

'Then let's go and help them. You are one of the best duellists in the school. You should be able to protect them. Or let's tell the teachers at least.'

'That's a noble sentiment, Neville. And I appreciate it but this is one enemy that Harry needs to face. Trust in your friends, they can deal with this. Now, let's head to bed.'

'If you say so, Darius.'

'Good night, Neville. Also, Neville, next year I am going to train you.'

'Train me? For what?'

'You'll know next year. I was very impressed with your bravery today, in standing up to your own friends and I also believe you have a lot of potential.'

We went to bed after that but I am sure he was confused regarding what I was talking about. Tonight, I remembered Neville's skill in the DA and his act of killing Nagini. Though he may be clumsy, he has a lot of untapped potential and giving him some training early would do him a world of good.

The next morning, all was as usual. I headed to the breakfast table and saw Lee Jordan already sitting there. I slid in next to him and started piling up my own plate. I wondered if news about Harry's exploits had already gone around the castle.

'Hey Darius, you heard about what happened last night?'

'Nope. What happened?'

'Well, the rumours I heard say that Harry Potter and a couple of his friends sneaked into the forbidden third floor corridor and prevented Quirrell from stealing something precious stored there. There's lots of theories flying around but this much is common in all of them. It is also confirmed that all of them are in the hospital wing right now.'

'Wow Lee, that's a lot of detail. How did you know all this?'

'I initially overheard some seniors gossiping about it and then spoke to the Gryffindor ghost, nearly headless Nick and a few of the portraits I know.'

So that's how news travels around Hogwarts so fast. The ghosts or the portraits must have seen Dumbledore and the trio coming out from there and the news spread to the entire castle. Thank goodness I took so many precautions before heading there myself. I continued talking to Lee after I thought through all this.

'That's an incredible tale. I suppose, nothing less from the Boy who Lived. I am more worried about our house scores though. We are at the bottom of the table and as if that's not enough, Slytherin is leading.'

'We haven't got much time to make a change either. It's a pity.'

'Anyways Lee, the twins are coming over to my pace over the holidays for nearly a month. Do you want to join us too?'

'Thanks for the offer Darius, but my dad and I are going for a trip to the land down under of Australia.'

'No problem Lee. It was just a thought.'

We headed our separate ways after breakfast and I headed to the lake to sit by the shore and relax. I watched as some students played with the giant squid and others sat at the edge of the lake with their feet in the water. Such an idyllic scene, I just sat there leaning against a tree trunk. After a good while, after I was mentally refreshed, I started pondering about the Philosopher's stone again.

I already had the Stone for nearly a week and there had been no action taken, so I was a bit relieved. Of course, I had not put down my guard completely and only took it out of the spatial pouch in the room of requirement. I didn't know if there were some spells on the stone that I couldn't detect which may expose me, and I wasn't willing to risk it. I was able to give precise instructions during the creation of the room which completely isolated it from the outside world and made it impossible for the Stone to be tracked in any manner. I had examined it carefully but that gave absolutely no insight into the creation of the artefact. It was blood-red, to such an extent that I wondered if blood was one of the components involved in its creation. It is an amorphous stone and would be indistinguishable from any other stone if not for its colour.

It was relatively easy to figure out how to use the Stone. Like any other magical artefact, pouring magical power into it was the key to activating it. It transformed metals into gold when it was activated with a mere touch. Making the elixir was pretty simple though. I just had to hold the activated Stone in magically conjured water and the water attained an incarnadine colour after transforming into the Elixir of Life. What was never mentioned in the books, was the prodigious amount of magical power required to activate the Stone. Despite already having the magical reserves of a standard adult wizard, Darius was unable to make more than a vial of the elixir in an entire day. As for metal transformation, he could manage to transform about 10 sickles into gold galleons in a day. He had tried the elixir himself to accurately determine the effects and was surprised to find that aside from the burst of vitality he felt, it also resulted in an increase in his magical strength.

After a few experiments, he figured it was because he still had a growing body and the excess vitality was used to exercise his body cells in a similar manner to his magic channelling. So, it was basically a boosted form of channelling. But he suspected there was a huge advantage to his method. While channelling could be used even after the end of the growing phase, the elixir would revert to its original function thereafter and just maintain the youth of the body. He also found that it would not be possible to take the elixir frequently. The residual vitality would begin to tear the body apart if taken in large quantities. He estimated a vial in every 2 weeks should be perfectly safe. He devoted a couple of hours every day just making the elixir. He hadn't been too enthused regarding the idea of depending on the Stone for immortality but he was willing to use it to further increase his magical powers. He also had to find a way to slip some to his mother.

But considering what he knew about her, she would likely immediately know that there was something fishy afoot, so maybe it was better to come clean?

Another couple of days later, Harry finally woke up and the news spread across the school. He had even sent some butterbeer to his hospital bed as a gift. That evening was the end-of-year feast and it went exactly as canon. Slytherin were in the lead but Gryffindor surged ahead with the points won by the trio and Neville and the House cup was won by Gryffindor. Even he was lost in happiness and it was a very merry moment for the house. And it wasn't some squeaky close victory of 10 points either, they were ahead by nearly fifty points. He liked to think his academic excellence had something to do with it.

The exam results also came out soon, and no surprise, he had the best grades in the year. He also happened to notice the person at second position and it turned out to be Cedric Diggory. The Hogwarts champion of the Triwizard Cup lived up to his reputation. He would have to get to know him better next term. From what he got to know from the books, he was a decent guy and skilled to boot but who was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. He had still to decide exactly what role he would play in the Triwizard cup and keeping Cedric from dying may be a worthy aim. Anyway, he himself will not be able to participate due to the age restriction.

And suddenly it was time to leave. The wardrobes were emptied, notes warning students not to use magic over the holidays handed out to the students, trunks stowed away in the train and they boarded the Hogwarts express. They talked and laughed as the scenery sped past, enjoying various sweets and candies as they drew nearer to London. They finally pulled into the King's Cross station and got down from the station. The twins headed toward their mother and he also went over to give his regards and once again invite the twins over for a month. Mrs Weasley was very willing and also asked him to come the next month.

He saw his own mother in the distance and headed over to give her a warm hug. It had been a long time since they met in Hogsmeade and he was looking forward to spending some quality time together.

Wonder how he would break the news that he stole the only Philosopher's Stone in the world from under the noses of the some of the best witches and wizards in the country?

C 19

They returned to their home in King's cross inn hotel. They had twin rooms booked at the hotel for an indefinite period of time and had been staying there since moving to London. It was within walking distance of the station and they took a leisurely walk to the inn.

He told his mom most of what happened during the school year though he kept some things for later. They were safer told within the safety of their own four walls, after all. He did tell her about his meetings with Harry Potter and she was fairly interested in the matter. They finally reached their rooms and stepped inside.

'Now Darius, what is it that you have been wanting to tell me?'

'How did you know?'

'I have seen you grow from infancy to who you are today. You think I can't tell when you are keeping something from me?'

'Guess not. Anyways, before we start talking, I want to know to what extent is this house protected?'

'You would be hard-pressed to find a better protected area in all of London. I have all the regular protections and jinxes, some special ones belonging to the family and it is also protected by the Fidelius charm. With all your extensive reading, I presume you know about that spell?'

'Of course, I do! But I had no clue we were protected by it. I presume you are secret-keeper?'

'Yes, I am. Now tell me this great secret.'

'I am only telling you this because you made me promise not to keep any more secrets anymore last year. We have to be very careful with this one.

Over the past year, Hogwarts has been the sanctuary of a very ancient artefact of very great value. It was protected by the spell-work of a majority of our professors. But as it happens, the wraith of Lord Voldemort had infiltrated the school after possessing one of his minions and was after the same item as it would help him resurrect with his full strength. I thwarted his plans by nabbing it beforehand and afterwards it came down to a fight between Harry Potter and the minion where Harry managed to triumph. I have covered my tracks well and as of now I believe that nobody knows that the treasure lies with me. The artefact I speak of is, the Philosopher's stone.'

She couldn't help but let out a gasp at that. It was funny. Last year, it was my Animagus form, this year the philosopher's stone. Maybe I should make a tradition of shocking her once every year?

'And you say that you managed to break through whatever wards the teachers had put up and got the stone? But that's dangerous. There may, or rather, there will be tracking charms and other spells cast all over it. I understand now why you needed a secured room but how did you evade detection so far?'

'It is due to a development in my rune overlaying. I managed to create a spatial pouch which twists space and creates a sub-dimension within itself. Another new creation was the necklace you are currently wearing. It will automatically heal you, in case you are injured, with your own magical powers.'

'That is an impressive achievement. Interfering with space itself shows a very high level of magical proficiency. There is a reason we have so many different protective and barrier spells. There is no one barrier that can keep you safe in every way. Though once you can interfere with space itself, any fight comes down to two points. Either the opponent has to have a much higher magical strength than you or a stronger grasp of principles of space. And thanks again for the necklace. I already liked it before but with the effect you have just described, it has become priceless. Various family leaders would spend handsomely to acquire such protective amulets.'

This single explanation opened up so many new avenues of thought for me. Right now, I had to use runes for affecting space but if I were able to use the underlying principles and make a variation of shield charm with it, it would be nigh unbreakable. He also had the idea for emergency escape rune. It could function like a portkey which would automatically activate on losing consciousness or low life-force and send you to a safe location. In fact, this would be my next project, I need to keep my mother safe. I could also make my own version of Newt Scamander's suitcase by enchanting my school trunk. While the undetectable extension charm would not be a major problem, I would have to use stronger spatial magic if I wanted to be able to get inside it myself. As an additional protection, I could use the Fidelius charm with myself as secret-keeper. It would save me the trouble of having to run to the room of requirement every single time. Though I could still go there sometimes with a spatial pouch to get more materials.

'I am glad you liked it mother. In fact, I just thought of another thing I would like to make and give to you but you'll have to wait a while longer. On that note, could you teach me the Fidelius charm. It will be of help to secure the safety of my experiments. Though I know about the spell, I haven't learnt how to cast it yet.'

'Of course. But all these new magical artefacts are very precious. There will definitely be people who will try to find out their methods of creation and claim credit for them if they find out. For now, be sure to keep them a secret as far as possible.'

'Yes mom, and now that we have got my secrets out of the way, it's time you spill the beans too. I have been living with you over a decade and can tell when you are keeping something from me too.'

'Touche! But I was planning on bringing it up anyways. You remember I had to deal with some family matters last summer. Well, I managed to keep their claws of us for the time being. As you know, the wizarding world has many long-standing families, some of which can trace their ancestries back to the middle ages. This led to many families being related in some manner or the other and the conflict of interests caused many battles to be fought behind the scenes. The last great battles mirrored the muggle war called World War II and spread throughout Europe.

Our family, Dominus, is the clan that brought peace during those troubled times repeatedly. We have since separated into seven branch families name after the seven sins - Superbia, Avaritia, Gula, Luxuria, Acedia, Invidia and Ira. Our clan generally keeps to the shadows and is only responsible from keeping the wizarding community from collapsing. But in recent years, we have faded from the public eye as family wars and feuds became fewer. Now the clan has split into two factions and while one advocates that we bow out and take our place as an ordinary wizarding family, the other wants to regain our glory from the olden days by forceful means. Both sides are roping in descendants to bolster their forces and I'm afraid you are listed as a prime candidate to be trained by the Ira clan.'

Wow, so much behind-the-scenes information at one go. I had wondered how the various families dealt with their conflicted allegiances and this definitely answers that. But knowing that there was no such great war during the canon timeline, I think the pacifist side won in the end.

'What exactly does being a prime candidate entail? And just how powerful was our family that we alone could keep several other wizarding families in line?

'These two questions are actually related. I will answer the second question first to give you a better idea of our powers. The Dominus family was initially a small pureblood family in medieval times existing even before the establishment of Hogwarts. Wizards and witches were frequently at war in those times and one our ancestors became a victim during a blood feud. The rest of the family banded together and started a large-scale ritual that could affect the entire rival clan. It was designed to let them sink into depravity and weaken themselves due to their own sins. It was a marvel of a ritual, which would have led to the entire clan tearing itself apart but fortunately it didn't work. Something went wrong, no one in the family knows what, and the ritual got inversed. Instead of affecting the rivals and weakening them with their own sins, the spell affected and empowered us, the ritual casters.

That is the secret of the Dominus family. We draw power from our emotions. Like natural Legilimens and Parselmouths, we too are special existences. Drawing upon our bloodline allows us to increase our magical strength by a few folds for short durations. And that brings me to the answer of your first question. The prime candidates are those who are inscribed with a blood rune, one that is required to activate our powers. The rune is inscribed over our hearts and it lets us meld our emotions into magic. Controlling such power is very difficult and it is easier to adjust to it if you are inscribed young. But the other requisite is magical power at least at the level of an average adult, so it becomes difficult to do so at younger ages. But I believe you shouldn't have any problems?'

'What you are saying sounds amazing but shouldn't our family be better known then? I realise I didn't know my heritage till today because we separated from them but why aren't they mentioned in any of the numerous books I have read?

Our family has appeared in various forms through history. The Ira warlocks were the feared berserkers. The Luxuria illusionists birthed the legends of Succubi and Incubi. Some of the Superbia were instrumental in the formation of the Ministry of Magic. The greatest Avaritia even dared to steal from dragon hoards and enriched our family fortunes. The Gula roamed across the globe gathering various magics and artefacts for the family. The warders of Acedia haven't let the family down in centuries. The Invidia have a spy network so well hidden and widespread that there is nothing that we are unaware of.

In modern times, the family jobs have changed somewhat. Our family spread beyond Britain and incorporated several more magics and bloodlines in it. The Ira are mainly aurors, hit-wizards and unspeakables of the Department of Mysteries. The Luxuria took to druidism and shamanism and are also a part of the Veela enclave. The Avaritia handle the family businesses and wealth and closely liason with the goblins of Gringotts. The Gula and Acedia are branches which haven't changed much over the centuries though they have gotten a lot better at their skills over the years. The Invidia have people in nearly every Department of the Ministry and also work in the Department of Mysteries.'

'It seems there is a lot I will have to learn.'

'That you do! You will need to be well versed in wizarding noble etiquettes and knowledge. I know you soak up information like a sponge so I will give you all the required books and you can peruse them at your leisure over the next year at school. Make sure you are well versed by the next summer. We may be expected to meet the Head of the House.'

This just trampled all over my plans. I was planning to take it easy and only occasionally meddle in the timeline but this bludger flew in out of nowhere. I will have to step in more actively henceforth to try to speed up the timeline but also make it go the same route. I need to be able to face this latest trouble headed my way without any extra burdens.

C 20

Hearing all that new information had put quite a lot of pressure on my back. I had read many books since I arrived in this world and some were on wizarding society and families. The Houses were classified as Noble and Most Ancient, Noble and Ancient, Ancient, Elder, Minor and Magical. From what my mother told me, her family was even above and beyond the Noble and Most Ancient houses. I had to prepare myself for the storm headed my way.

Or family was only known by the most powerful families, and only the family heads and their heirs at that. We were home schooled and generally didn't go to Hogwarts. I only got to do so because my mother had left the family for the time. I remembered my conversation about this with my mother.

'I know you are well practised at Occlumency and ask you to keep your shields up at all times when you are in the presence of Albus Dumbledore. He is from the Minor house of Dumbledore and does not have knowledge of our family. I would like it to remain that way. No matter how much he may appear otherwise, he is a manipulative old man and would use whatever means he can to make use of us', she said.

I nodded to show I understood and said, 'I can feel that I am close to the next level of Occlumency. According to the books I have read there are two levels and I am on the cusp of moving into the second. The second level supposedly gives access to one's mindscape, complete mental and significant emotional control and the moniker of Master Occlumens. I believe that it is an extremely rare ability and should hold me in good stead even against the likes of Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape.'

She seemed extremely pleased with that and told me, ' Keep up with your training and reach the next level as soon as possible. It will be an invaluable skill. Even I am not at the level of a master Occlumens.'

I did as she said and practised the next few days. The info she had given me had put paid to most of my plans for the summer. I would still go to the Weasleys for the last two weeks of summer but the rest of the time was focussed on my training.

The training had reached a sort of bottleneck. No matter how much I meditated or cleared my mind, there was no significant difference in my skills and I was no closer to becoming a master Occlumens. I figured there was a trick to it and just meditated for the next few days while thinking of the various steps I could take. It was during one of these sessions that an epiphany struck me. What if I was going about it wrong. What if, instead of emptying my mind, I was supposed to fill it up. One of the results of the next level would be a mindscape but what if it wasn't a result of reaching the next level but the requirement to do so. I immediately set to work and started visualising a blank mindscape. I then constructed, assembled and brought into being all the structures I imagined in the mindscape. By the end of it, there was so much strain that I passed out.

I woke up refreshed and in high spirits. Every one of my senses seemed to be working overtime. I could see, hear, smell, taste and feel so much more. My mind was having a million thoughts every second and I could literally feel as if my consciousness had expanded beyond its normal limits. Turning inwards, I was please to find that I was readily able to use the mind's eye, an ability which Master Occlumens possessed. It allowed one to freely see their own mindscapes and alter it with their will. It is also the reason why it is near impossible to peek into their minds and thoughts and absolutely impossible to do so without their knowledge. It is also said that it is easier to learn Legilimency if you are already and accomplished Occlumens and it seems to be true going by the powerful consciousness I now possessed.

I peered into my mindscape and was very pleased with the way it turned out. I had constructed it in the form of a city with various buildings with a giant wall around it. There was a library with all of my academic knowledge, a theatre with my memories, a military quarter with all my practical spell and duelling knowledge and so on and so forth. The wall was a mighty bastion to keep out all attacks on my mind. The entire city had several alleys and dead ends to confuse the attackers and also various traps, i.e., if they managed to get past the walls first. It was magnificent! I got down to business and further improved my mental defences by setting traps, arranging false memories and other direct attacks. My mind was now completely under my control. This level of Occlumency also gives one the ability of almost complete emotional control so you can prevent your emotions, whether they be anger, sadness or anything else, on the outside. A very useful tool wherever politics is involved.

Another side-effect of my achieving the level of a Master Occlumens, besides the increased proclivity to Legilimency was reaching a higher level with my wandless and non-verbal casting abilities. Non-verbal casting is considered difficult due to the need for impeccable focus while casting the spell and my new state of mind should lend itself admirably to that. Wandless magic merely means the lack of a casting aide while using magic. Albeit with a much weaker effect due to the lack of a magical catalyst, the process of it is much the same of non-verbal casting.

My animagi transformations did not change from this new level of mind but it definitely made it easier to centre myself and thereby activate the transformation with much greater speed and ease than before.

My memory has become near eidetic or rather, I have gained perfect recall. I can remember everything that I have ever experienced through any and every sense. My well-ordered mind lets my logical thinking and cognitive processes much more effective and I am able to draw conclusions and reach results much more easily.

All in all, I have made a major step forward just by gaining mastery in one aspect of my abilities. This is an astounding leap forward in my capabilities and I am reasonably confident in handling any normal adult wizard or witch. But it also lends itself to the thought of what heights I may reach upon gaining mastery in any other aspects. Most students go for mastery in one or maybe two subjects after they have already cleared NEWTs and are seeking apprenticeships. My aim should me mastery in transfiguration, charms, DADA, herbology and potions by the time I am of age. I should also start learning Legilimency. Maybe my mother could help me in practising the skill.

Anyway, time to announce the happy news.

'Mu-uum. I got good news to tell you', I screamed from my room.

'Alright, Alright, you don't need to make me deaf', she said as she entered my room.

I was almost bouncing with joy as I told her, 'I succeeded mum! I am now a Master Occlumens. I have already set up my mindscape. I am also sorry to tell you that I cannot tell you the secret to the final step. I can intuitively feel that doing so would lead to you becoming a pseudo-master and you would not enjoy the full benefits. This is something you need to discover on your own.'


	7. 2130

Chapter 21: Cantatio and Surprise Visitors

They got up early the next morning. Darius was excited just to be learning about Legilimency and now he was getting an extra skill as well. He had no idea what cantatio was, but according to his understanding of Latin, it could mean both music or a spell. He was fairly proficient in Latin due to its requirement in Arithmancy and spell-crafting.

'Well now, it's time to get started on your lessons, if only to stop you from bouncing in your chair', she said as she chuckled. She then begun the explanation of Cantatio.

'Cantatio is the art of creating music using magic. You may know that muggle orchestras have a conductor with a wand-like object to conduct the music. That was a practice they acquired from us, before our secession from the muggle world after the establishment of the Statute of Secrecy. Using magic, we can change the melody, harmony, tempo, metre, timbre, pitch and volume as we please. This art is magically exhausting and my general recommendation would be at least an age of 15 before starting it, but you have proven yourself to be beyond that magical limit so there shouldn't be any issues. Depending on the skill of the witch or wizard, we can go anywhere between a sound of a cat dying to the most beautiful symphony you can ever imagine.

Cantatio also determines where the magician's aptitude lies. It is decided by the limits to which they can take each measure. For example, the larger variation you can control in the pitch, the more skilful you may be at transfiguration. The best part is, repeated practice can help you improve your respective skill and control in various magics. It is now considered a lost art and only the oldest pure-blood families may contain mention of it. If you ever hear the phrase that music is a magic beyond all others, this art is the reason it is so. We unwittingly employ the use of every branch of magic when we practice Cantatio. I will now let you see my memories of learning it in a Pensieve, so you have a good idea of what you will be doing.'

She then showed me the memories of her learning Cantatio from another woman who had very similar features to her, likely a relative. It was beautiful art! The way music is made from pure magic was awe-inspiring. The music had a sort of compulsion to make you listen to it. The way music weaved together, you could literally feel the magic in the air. After coming out from the Pensieve, mum showed me her personal best piece. It was a rendition of a phoenix song, the most beautiful piece of music I ever heard. She asked me to practice it whenever I had time to do so.

Next, we started with Legilimency. Compared to Cantatio, it seemed like child's play. Maybe, that's why we did it in that order. Legilimency is basically using one's consciousness to invade another and search their mind. The method differs from person to person. Some people may like to brute-force their way through like a spear impacting a shield, others are like throwing multiple darts at a person to discover their weak points and invade that way. Yet others are like a mist, slowly creeping in without notice or maybe just dismantling the shields of the opponent. There are many varied methods with each requiring their own respective levels of control and magic. This is also why, Master Occlumens had a distinct advantage when it came to learning Legilimency. Aside from the distinct increase in our mental faculties, we are also able to fashion any method of attacking in our mindscape and use it to attack the opponent.

I practiced all my magic and Cantatio over the next few weeks. My magic had gotten even better and I was able to do even more difficult spells very quickly. I even had the auror-level disillusionment charm practised to a perfect level. There are no official ranks of spells aside from academic years, but unofficially there is of-age spells, auror/hit-wizard level spells and Unspeakable level spells above that. I was coming along at a rapid pace and I had no dearth of money to buy higher levels of spellbooks and grimoires for further practice.

It was towards the end of the first month of vacation and about two weeks before I had to leave for the Weasleys, that we received a mysterious and rather alarming letter.

To,

Lady Kaela Icarus née Ira Dominus

Heir of Ira

Kings Cross Inn Hotel

London, United Kingdom

Madam,

My wife and I seek to converse with you and your son at you earliest convenience. We have reason to believe that you have something that belongs to us. Fear not, we are not here for retaking it. We merely wish to acquaint ourselves with the people who currently possess it.

You will find our proposal to be to your advantage. We will willingly impart some secrets to you. I merely seek to meet Darius and gain some measure of the lad. We are not going to freely give out our name so as to not cause a hue and cry.

If you decide to take up our offer, you may step across the floor and enter the room 3 doors down from yours. We await your visit.

Yours sincerely,

N P

Kings Cross Inn Hotel

London, United Kingdom

The letter truly alarmed my mother. As we were under the Fidelius charm, there should be no conceivable reason for anybody to know our exact location, yet this letter proved us wrong regarding that. They also stated we had a possession belonging to them and we had no clue what it was. Information is power and we had none right now. The only question was, do we take up their offer or not?

We decided to go the next day and owled them a reply accordingly. We settled ourselves in for the night but sleep just wouldn't come for me. I knew I was on the cusp of realising something and forcing it wouldn't help, so I relaxed and started meditating when it suddenly struck me. I knew who the mailers were and what possession they spoke off. Now, I couldn't sleep for a different reason; I was simply too excited to do so and finally had to settle myself with my Occlumency exercises and meditate for the night.

The next morning, we got up early and got ready to meet the visitors. I debated with myself about whether to confess my suspicions to mum but it seemed so far-fetched that I kept them to myself. We got ready in our wizarding finest and headed to the room 3 doors down. We both managed to detect the wards arranged in the room but it seemed that they would not obstruct us, so we entered the room after knocking and getting a reply of, 'Come in!'

We entered the room and immediately noticed the couple sitting on the couch in front of us. The man and woman both wore formal wizarding robes but seemed very young; in their late twenties at the maximum. But it was their eyes that gave away their true ages; they seemed to be like deep pools, as if they had seen so much more than us. It seemed that my suspicions were correct and I hurried to greet them before my mother could inquire of their identities.

'Good morning, Mr and Mrs Flamel! It's a pleasure to meet you.'

I had the distinct pleasure of seeing my mother's jaw drop and also saw Nicolas pass a galleon over to Perenelle. It seemed they had a bet as to whether we would be able to figure out their identities or not. By this time, my mother comported herself and gave her own greetings to the duo.

Nicolas took the lead and spoke up, 'No need to stand on pleasantries with us. Have a seat. We have a lot to talk about and should get all this formality out of the way.'

We did as he said and took the couch opposite to them. My mother spoke up, 'I am honoured that the eternal couple is deigning to speak to us, but may I ask why? After all, you are known for having withdrawn from society and seldom reveal yourself.'

'As expected of a Dominus heiress. You guys always seem to know a bit too much. We have dealt with your ancestors even before your bloodline awakening and they were exactly the same even then', Madam Perenelle chuckled as she reminisced.

This time, I had to speak up. 'According to official records, you should be of the ages of 665 and 658 respectively. How is it that you speak of our ancestors who existed even before that? Do you mean to say that you are even longer-lived than that?'

'You are a perceptive little brat! You even caused me to lose the bet to Perenelle due to that. Anyway, you happen to be right. We are indeed far older than history would have you believe. We have changed identities and lived several different lives. The allure of the Philosopher's stone is too strong and we eventually grow tired of the hounding and start our lives over with a different identity.'

'It is as Nicolas said! What people fail to realise is that we have been through everything and do not fall for their simple ploys. The true Philosopher's stone is not an artefact, it is our very life essence, our blood. Both of us, due to a fortunate happenstance, not unlike your clan, gained sanguis vitam auream otherwise called Golden Blood of Life. The stone you hold is merely our crystallised, rune enchanted, blood. It will work for maybe a decade before it collapses unto itself.'

'I expected as such. I refused to believe that two people, who have lived for more than six centuries, just up and decided to end their lives. I thank you for your trust in us by telling us this but may I ask what the true purpose of your visit is?'

'It is not merely trust. You'll find that you are unable to tell anybody else our secret. The knowledge is protected under the Fidelius charm and thus cannot be divulged by anyone except the secret-keeper. The only reason we were able to find you and your mother inside the charm is because there is a very strong connection between the stone and my own blood and a blood-tracking ritual is enough to overpower the Fidelius for a while. The true purpose of our visit is to test you Darius.'

'Wait; test my son for what? You aren't getting anywhere near him until you explain your intentions clearly', my mother was a bit frantic as she replied. It touched me that she was so protective of me and I loved her for it.

Perenelle decided to intervene and said, 'No need to be suspicious Kaela. We are thinking of taking Darius as an apprentice. We do that roughly every century or so and our last one was at the beginning of the 20th century. It was Albus Dumbledore, your current headmaster.

So, I ask formally; Do you, Darius Icarus, take us, Nicolas And Perenelle Flamel, as your masters and promise to duly fulfil the requirements of an apprentice and bring honour to our name?'

My mother and I were frozen stiff. Here were the Flamel couple, premier Masters of the ancient art of Alchemy and were offering apprenticeship to me. It was almost like a dream and my mother had to nudge me before I pulled myself together and answered with a resounding, 'YES!'

'Well then, we will begin teaching you the basics from tomorrow. I realise you will have to leave for Hogwarts in a month's time and will endeavour to teach you the basic rules in that time. I never had this problem before; if I am not mistaken, you are the youngest apprentice we have ever taken. I will give you some of our notes and journals; of course, charmed so that only you can open and read them. I will test you the next summer on your progress and take your studies further from there. We will continue this process over the next few, till you are at a decent level and then leave you to find your own path. Every single alchemist has to walk their own path and have their own discoveries; and you will be no exception.'

'Yes masters. I will carry out your instructions to the best of my abilities.'

We left son after that; my mother still a bit shocked with the events that transpired a few moments ago. I was hardly in a better condition. It was a lot to take in. But one thing was for sure, this was literally a once in a century offer and I was going to make the best of it.

Anyway, I had to write a letter to let the twins know that I won't be able to come to the burrow after all. It was a bit of a pain as this would have been a good opportunity to snag the Diary from Ginny. It would be much easier than taking it from the girl's dorm in Hogwarts but I will let it go for now. I am sure I can think of some way to get it from her later.

C 22

My mother and I spoke about the implications of this apprenticeship over the next morning's breakfast. We were both grateful to the Flamels for giving me the opportunity but equally agreed on the fact that this was to be kept in strictest confidence. The only known qualified alchemist in the modern world is Dumbledore and he can keep the greedy paws of others at bay. I may not be able to stave them off so well; in fact, my mother's family may be the first to track me down to divulge all the secrets I know.

The Flamels had also let me know that it was to be kept a secret from Dumbledore as well. Though the Stone given to him was not essential to their longevity, it still rankled that he had the temerity to claim that its destruction was for the greater good and that he had done so after merely informing them once. They had not told him the secret of sanguis vitam auream and they wished it to remain that way. They would take another new alias after disappearing from the public view for a while.

I headed to their room and knocked. I was feeling so nervous. I was going to learn one of the ancient arts; in fact, one of the most precious and desired ones of the lot. I heard a positive response after just a few seconds but what seemed like several minutes and immediately entered. He saw Nicolas sitting on the couch with a chair in front of him and Perenelle on the chair by the table, scribbling something on a parchment.

Nicolas spoke up first, 'We both are going to teach you different things. Over the years, I have mainly focussed on alchemy, potions and some mainstream magic and will teach you accordingly. Perenelle on the other hand, has dabbled in virtually every type of magic and will teach you some obscure or ancient magics. Let us begin.'

'Yes, master.'

'We shall start with alchemy. Alchemy is the magic of transformation. It can be used to create the greatest but also the worst substances. Alchemy's better aims are the creation of Panacea, a substance capable of curing any disease; the development of alkahest, a universal solvent which will be most helpful in creating various complicated potions easily, transmutation of metals and many other uses. On the other hand, alchemy can be used to create the deadliest poisons, which are near impossible to neutralise without suitable counters or an alchemist at hand; it can cause large-scale destruction through some special rituals; be used in some unholy rituals to further strengthen the negative energy and so on and so forth. Like every other magic, it is neither good nor bad; its usage lies solely in the hands of the wielder.

I have uncovered the secrets of alkahest already and will pass them down to you when I feel the time is right. Meanwhile, I shall teach you how to use alchemy to stabilize volatile compounds to make more effective potions and substances. I will also teach you the basics of alchemic healing potions and poisons and cover a few rituals as well. We will be doing this over the next four weeks. At the end of it, I will give you some of my journals, as promised, and let you learn it over the next year.'

After that we got down to my lessons and we went over all the basics. It was a fascinating study and I was glad that I was already well read and practised in potioneering, as that helped me speed the process along. We covered the interactions of various compounds, how to infer the results in advance and how to use alchemy to twist the interactions to our needs.

Medicines and poisons are really 2 sides of the same coin. Both require the same knowledge of the human body and the effect of various substances on it. Medicine in large quantities or incorrectly brewed can be deadlier than poisons and poisons in controlled doses can help where no medicine is able to. Alchemy can be used to enhance the effects of both. It makes it so simple spells or potions are unable to remove their effects and it needs special compounds or alchemic reagents to flush them from the system before it's work is done.

We worked through the morning and took a break only at lunch time, when my mother came in with a pot of stew for all four of us. We had a hearty meal and I gave my mum a brief overview of the subjects I will be learning, after permission from Nicolas, of course. After finishing up, Nicolas went into the inner rooms with a book for quite reading and Perenelle took his place in front of me.

She called my mum before she could leave, 'Wait Kaela, if you are interested, you may sit in for my lessons. I had decided to cover miscellaneous topics and I don't mind you taking a seat too. The topic for the next few weeks will be the Dark Arts.'

My mother promptly took a seat and we both turned to face her with rapt attention. The Dark Arts are seldom openly practised unless you want to be labelled a dark wizard or Dark Lord. But it is still highly sought after for its power and learning it from someone who has literally lived through most of its creation and origins is a golden opportunity to learn it in its true and unbiased form.

Perenelle took a deep breath and started with her lengthy discourse, 'Simply put, the dark arts are a collective name for magic with high potency - both constructive and destructive. Since they cannot be used lightly, on a daily basis, the dark arts are studied and used far less frequently than other magic. This creates a notion of mysteriousness around them, hence the name dark. I will give you some examples of the dual nature of the Dark Arts.

The unforgivable curse, Imperio, controls the mind. It can prove very useful for turning away a troll or a werewolf without anyone getting hurt. On the other hand, it can strip away a person's free will and theoretically bind them as a puppet forever.

Another unforgivable, the cruciatus curse, allows you to control exactly how much pain your subject feels. But please don't make the mistake of thinking that Crucio can only be used to torture someone to insanity! The subject of the Crucio curse will feel exactly how much pain you will them to feel. If you don't mean for them to get hurt, then what would they feel?'

'Nothing?', my mum realized. 'So, the curse would still work. It's just that some people ... define 'work' differently?'

'On that topic, what do you think is the best thing you can do for your friend, if someone is torturing him with Crucio? Assuming that you're not in a position to attack the torturer?'

This time I spoke up, 'Cast Crucio on him too, and will him to feel nothing?'

'Exactly, and what do you think is the best thing you can do for yourself, if someone is torturing you?'

'The same thing?', I guessed. 'Crucio yourself?'

Perenelle immediately interrupted me, 'That usually won't turn out well. Most people cannot imagine themselves feeling complete bliss while they're under excruciating pain, so you'd probably end up amplifying the effect. The best thing to do is to somehow force your opponent to end the spell as soon as possible... But what do you think is the worst possible thing you can do for yourself, if someone is torturing you with Crucio ... Never, ever, torture your torturer back', Perenelle eventually revealed. 'Any pain you inflict on them will echo into their curse, and theirs into yours. Before long, both of you won't even have enough sanity left to break away.'

Something was pricking my mind at the time. It was like some long forgotten memory that was trying to break loose but I couldn't figure it out at all. I sighed and let it go; forcing it wouldn't bring me any closer. I should relax and then maybe it will come to me later.

'My mother spoke up at this time, 'What about the third unforgivable, the Killing curse?'

'I suppose it's considered dark simply because it's highly effective at causing death, through instantaneously separating the soul from the body.

But would you believe me if I told you, the initial creator of the curse made it solely for the purpose of a painless death; rather than the hanging or guillotines used for criminals in those days.'

We debated on the various uses of the Dark Arts, both positive and negative. We also discussed how it's true meaning had changed over the years and perverted by the wannabe Dark Lords.

The Dark Arts were also far more enduring than most other spells due to their potency. Most ancient magical structures that still stood today, did so due to Dark spells woven into their wards and protections. To our utter shock, Perenelle declared that even Hogwarts' age-old wards had a significant number of Dark spells woven into them.

After a lengthy but fascinating conversation we retired for the evening and headed back to our room. It had been a most enlightening conversation and I was looking forward to learning some of the Dark spells that Perenelle had promised to eventually teach me.

She also asked me to give a comprehensive explanation of my magical abilities so that she and Nicolas could plan my lessons better. She was extremely pleased with my advanced studies and stated that with just a bit more of theoretical studies, I would be capable of even passing my NEWTs.

She was also pleased with my animagus transformation and praised me for it. She admitted that both her husband and her had their own. They were respectively, a Runespoor and a Unicorn. My mother and I were stunned at the revelation. According to common wizarding knowledge, every animagus transformation is a non-magical creature but their's clearly broke that rule.

Then Perenelle asked me a most curious question, 'I can tell by your mannerisms and mental strength that you are close to if not already, a Master Occlumens. What I want to know, is that, how far along are you with Legilimency?'

It came out of the blue, but I honestly told her I was a beginner and had only started this summer. But I also let her know I was already a Master Occlumens and would thus, be able to pick up Legilimency much faster.

'Make sure you do, Darius. I will have a nice surprise for you if you can do it proficiently by the next summer.'

That night, we headed to bed after an early dinner. We had had a long day and been given lots to ponder upon.

It was late at night, when I shot up from my sleep with a jerk. It had come to me. The idea that was percolating in my mind when we were discussing the Unforgivables resurfaced.

'THE LONGBOTTOMS!!'

I owled a letter to Neville urgently seeking permission for my mother and me to floo to the Longbottom hall tomorrow morning for matters of highest importance. If I was right, the wizarding world was shortly going to be turned on its head.

C 23

The next morning, Darius told his mother of his suspicions and she was stunned speechless by the implications. They both dressed themselves and rushed to the Flamels' rooms. They entered after knocking and found Nicolas sitting at the same spot as yesterday.

'Master, I wish to converse regarding a crucial manner with you.'

Barely smothering a grin, he replied, 'I can tell. Both of you rushing here early in the morning was a big indicator. Now sit down and tell me what's bothering you.'

I took a seat and explained the predicament and my conjectures to him. He hung his head down as he mulled it over. My heart was beating fast and he finally replied a few moments later, 'I agree with your theory, young Darius. I am sorry that I did not know of such a travesty; I may have been able to help via alchemic methods if I had known earlier. However, your method is also a viable one and you should go ahead and try it. Also, if you are agreeable to it, I feel you should carry along two vials of the elixir of life.'

'I will do as you say. I think I know why you tell me to do so. But why do you ask for my agreement. The stone is yours, isn't it?'

'The stone was yours when you used your guile to successfully acquire it with none the wiser. You can also consider it my initial gift as a master to my apprentice. Now go! I suppose you have several arrangements to make today morning.'

They got back to their apartment and partook a hurried breakfast. Then after dressing in fine wizarding wear, stepped up in front of the fireplace. His mother had taught him the necessary wizarding etiquettes well and he knew the significance of a visit to the manor of a Noble and most Ancient House. His mother went ahead first. She threw a handful of floo powder into the flames and watched as the flames turned emerald green. She stepped into the fire and clearly articulated, 'Longbottom Hall!'

He took his turn after her and following the same pattern, found himself rushing past several exits before halting in front of one and stepped out of the fireplace. He saw his mother conversing with a stern looking older lady. She looked rather thin and bony but seemed formidable all the same.

'Good morning, Madam Longbottom! My name is Darius Icarus, currently a student in Hogwarts, two years your son's senior. I owled Neville yesterday night as I felt we had information of great importance to your family. However, he is not present here?'

'Hello Darius! I heard of you from Neville a couple of times. Apparently, you have managed to skip a year at Hogwarts? That is a most commendable achievement; it's been a long time since that last happened. As for Neville, he is working in the greenhouse out back. He will be along shortly.'

'This is slightly fortuitous then. I realized later that I did not want Neville to be a part of this so soon. If you are fine with it, would you please come with us to another venue. We can tell Neville that we are leaving for a short while and will be back soon.'

'I don't know why all the cloak and dagger, but I will accede to your request. I am rather intrigued by now. Wait here while I go and let Neville know I will be back soon.'

She was back soon enough and we walked over to the fireplace. I told her we had to go to St. Mungo's and she finally seemed to work out some things.

'It seems you are aware of my son and his wife's condition. But what do you intend to do by going there. Judging by your reticence in bringing Neville along, are you going to attempt to revive the two of them?'

'Very astute of you, Madam Longbottom! Yes, that is what me and my son are going to do. Darius was recently apprenticed to a person of great skill. During one of his lessons, he realized something that may help the duo. We need you there to authorise the Healers to let us enter the ward. We didn't bring Neville with us, in order to not raise his hopes. Though we are fairly confident in our theory, it would not do the boy any good to gain false hope. But fear not; the treatment we will attempt, will not harm them any further in any way whatsoever.'

'I realize you are only attempting to help them, but you do know that the healers there weren't able to help the pair for close to 11 years now, don't you?'

'Yes ma'am, but we would like to try nonetheless', I stated quite firmly.

She sighed and then headed to the fireplace. My mother and I cast glamours to disguise ourselves and told the matriarch that we didn't want any extra attention because of this. We were going to try and help her son and daughter-in-law and that was it. All three of us flooed to St. Mungo's. With deft footsteps, she led us to the fourth floor. The sign on the floor said it was for Permanent Spell Damage and we headed directly to the Janus Thickey Ward. She told the healers to let us in and we headed to the beds at the end of the room with partitions around it.

'Madam Longbottom, I require you to wait outside the partitions. I know that you probably want to be present for the treatment but it involves secret knowledge that you are not liable to be privvy to. I thank you for your understanding.'

She huffed at that but finally settled to wait outside. My mother and I both went inside and saw the couple on the beds. They looked rather care-worn and just slept on the bed, blankly looking at the ceiling.

My mother first erected another ward, so that nobody could just burst in. I casted 'muffliato' to silence any sounds and then proceeded towards Frank first.

This whole endeavour hinged on the explanation given by Perenelle yesterday. According to her, the Cruciatus curse was a means of controlling pain rather than causing it. It was only when it was used with hatred and the intent to cause pain, like the death eaters, that the spell worked as a torturng curse.

According to the healers they were incapacitated due to the torture they suffered but I felt differently. I believed that the curse damaged the connection of their minds to the body. The Cruciatus curse, like the Killing curse, does not leave any physical evidence on the victim. Thus, the generally drawn conclusion of their pain receptors and nerves being overwhelmed is immediately out of the question.

The more likely conclusion is that their minds retreated inwards to protect themselves and that they only show any fragment of reaction in particular conditions, such as Neville's presence. I had already told my mother what I would be doing and got right down to it.

I cast the somnus charm to put them both to sleep. I didn't want them awake for this. On the off-chance that they remembered what I did when they woke up, I would be in a lot of trouble.

'Crucio!', I casted the Unforgivable for the first time. Like with most people who try it, the curse did not seem to function, but I knew better. If I fuelled more power and hatred, I could use it to torture them. But in the current inert state, I pushed as much magic as I could and tried to reduce pain and remove the residual effects of the previously cast curses instead.

My conjecture withstood the test, and I could almost feel the broken mind start to pull itself together. I signalled mum and she quickly took the vial of Elixir I had handed to her before this and forced the Elixir down his throat. He seemed to visibly improve as his greying hair darkened, wrinkles relaxed and his body thrummed with vitality.

We left him still asleep and hurried to his wife. Repeating the same method, we managed to get her health back to normal as well. We removed the wards and stepped out to see the Longbottom matriarch as well as a healer waiting outside.

I pointed my hands to the beds with a flourish and told them, 'Congratulations! Our theory was right and they should be alright now. We have them under a Somnus charm but they should wake up any minute now. Madam Longbottom, perhaps it's time to call Neville.'

The healer and the matriarch completely ignored us and rushed to the beds. They could see that the pair were in visibly much better shape.

'They seem to be in much better condition. This is unbelievable. Thank you. But I would rather wait till they wake up before bringing Neville here.'

'As you wish, ma'am.'

We had to wait another 5 minutes before Frank started gaining consciousness and barely a minute later, Alice was getting up too. You could already see the difference; instead of the dull, featureless eyes before, they were bright and vibrant and seemed to be sizing up everyone around.

Frank finally spoke up, 'Where are we? What happened to Neville? The death eaters in the house- '

Madam Longbottom cut him off right there, 'You are at St. Mungo's Frank. Neville is perfectly safe at home and the death eaters who went after you and Alice are behind bars at Azkaban. But I have something distressing to tell you; It's been about 11 years since that day, Frank. You were in Mungo's and we couldn't find a way to wake you up. It is due to this lady and her son here that we were finally able to revive you.'

Frank and Alice seemed to be in shock after hearing that. They must find it hard to fathom that they missed out 11 years of their lives.

'MUM! DAD!', Neville rushed into the ward and made a beeline towards them. He hugged both of them repeatedly and kissed them on their cheeks before settling down and holding hands with them.

Madam Longbottom looked towards us and I just shrugged, 'We were confident about the results, so I sent a Patronus to Neville with a message and told him to floo to St. Mungo asap.'

'A messeger Patronus! A corporeal one? That's beyond impressive at your age!'

'Thank you, Madam Longbottom. I suppose you have a lot to celebrate now. We shall take our leave now. The news is going to spread like wildfire and we would like to get out of here before too many people arrive.'

'But why? You should be recognised for your efforts. I have no doubt a lot of people will want to meet you.'

'And that is exactly what we wish to avoid. We will also be unable to tell you our method of cure as that could place me in trouble. Suffice to say, it is knowledge gained from my master.

One last thing, you have to make sure that both of them eat as much food as they can. The healing may have helped them for now but they need to eat to replenish their heath for good. Goodbye!'

Saying that we quickly walked out of the ward as we saw a joyous Neville talking animatedly with his parents. I cast disillusionment charms on the both of us and we quickly headed down to the lobby. I could already see half-a-dozen healers rushing towards the ward. We made our way to the lobby and used the floo to get back to our apartment.

We finally relaxed and then collapsed on our couch. Even though the theory was sound and even affirmed by Nicolas, it was pretty nerve-wracking to try it. There was also a slight possibility of failure wherein their minds had truly collapsed and not just retreated into a shell like them. I was optimistic though; they were highly regarded Aurors, so they should be mentally strong and have at least some degree of Occlumency skills.

We relaxed for a while and then I headed to Nicolas for my lessons. We had a busy morning and mum joined me after lunch again to sit in on Perenelle's lecture.

That evening, a special edition evening Prophet was released with the news of the Longbottom's awakening.

LONGBOTTOM COUPLE WAKE UP AFTER MORE THAN A DECADE

Frank Longbottom, lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Longbottom and his wife Alice Longbottom rose from their long stay at St. Mungo's today, writes our reporter, R. Almeidus. According to Mungo's, they were awakened by an unknown pair of people brought in by the Longbottom matriarch today morning. They did so in secrecy, without the presence of healers, as is custom; leading us to believe that there were some powerful family magics used. Attempts for an interview with the Longbottom matriarch were rebuffed. 'My son and daughter-in-law have woken up after more than a decade and the next reporter to trouble us better be ready to have themselves and their entire publication sued', she said.

Nevertheless, it is a happy occasion and our paper gives our heartiest congratulations. We only wish we knew more about the mysterious helpers and their methods. We leave a standing invitation for the pair to appear for an interview with our paper. For more details

Pg 02 Further details on the Longbottom's awakening

Pg 08 What happened to the Longbottoms and the death Eaters responsible for it

Pg 20 Doctors left dumbfounded by sudden improvements

I was happy to have been of help to them and the picture on the paper of the entire family together left me well-satisfied for our efforts.

The rest of the summer passed by quickly with all the lessons and practice involved. The wizarding world at large were still curious about the identities of the two healers. My lessons went well and according to Nicolas, I could now be officially considered as an apprentice alchemist. Perenelle taught me more history in that one month than Professor Binns is likely to do the next entire year. My Cantatio had reached the levels of being able to play a song; far from its full potential of an entire symphony.

The summer quickly came to an end and soon enough I was on platform 9, boarding the Hogwarts express for my 4th year.

C 24

Chapter 24: 4th year and Lockheart

It was 11 soon enough and the students scrambled on to the train as it started moving. I waved goodbye to mum as the train left the station. I sat back and tied the note I had already prepared to Dusk's feet and cast a muggle notice-me-not charm before sending it off. Well, I did what I could; let's hope it works out.

Meanwhile, there was a knock and the door swung open. Hermione and Ginny stood at the door and peered in. They seemed to be looking for somebody, likely Harry and Ron.

'Hi Darius!', begun Hermione, 'Have you seen Harry and Ron by any chance? We have been searching all the compartments and haven't found them yet.'

'Hi Darius', Ginny also greeted me.

'Hi Ginny, Hermione! No, I haven't seen either of them. I did see all the Weasley's come on the platform at the last second but neither Harry nor Ron. I suspect they were late and couldn't get on the platform, so I sent them a letter just now.'

'Thanks Darius. That seems the likely option. But what letter did you send?'

'I just told them that I suspected they couldn't get on the platform for some reason and that they should not panic and do something stupid because of it. Can you imagine what would happen if Harry whipped out his broom and started flying; or they tried to apparate and splinched themselves. I told them to use Dusk to send a message to the school. Maybe one of the teachers could apparate them over.'

By this time Hermione couldn't hold it in and had to ask. 'You mentioned apparating twice. What is that? From the way you said it, it seems like some way of transportation.'

'Ginny spoke up to clarify it for her, 'Apparating is a wizarding way to travel. It involves the use of magic to instantaneously disappear from one place and appear in another. It is very difficult and many wizards don't bother with. They prefer brooms or floo travelling.'

'It is something akin to what muggles refer to as teleporting, Hermione', I added.

'Oh, this is so fascinating. I wish I could do that too. When do we learn to do that?'

'Calm down, Hermione! It is very difficult for the untrained. You will only start learning it in your 6th year. It is regulated by the ministry via licenses because of how dangerous it is if it goes wrong. Never try it on your own or you risk severe accidents or even death.'

This conversation did remind me about learning apparition though. It was an important skill and I wanted to learn it as soon as I could. I already know that 6th and 7th years learnt it for 12 weeks starting February every year from a ministry trainer. I wonder if I could somehow sneak into the lessons and learn it. I do know the disillusionment charm. Well, I'll think about it later.

Suddenly the door opened and a dazed looking blonde witch stepped in; it was Luna Lovegood. The eccentric witch sat next to Ginny and looked around.

'Hi Ginny! I was searching for you on the train.'

'Hi Luna! Everyone, this is Luna Lovegood. She and her dad live close to our house and I have known her since I was a child. And Luna, I'm sorry I didn't come find you. I was talking to these people and forgot about it.'

'It's alright.'

There was a knock on the door and I stepped up to open it. It was Neville Longbottom. He asked me to step out for a moment and I followed him. Neville seemed to be in high spirits and immediately hugged me.

'Thank you! Thank you so much! My gran told me you and your mother were the ones who cured my mum and dad. You can't possibly know how much that means to me. You have the word of Heir Longbottom, any request you have, you only need ask.'

'It's fine Neville. I did what any decent person would do. We in fact realised the remedy the night before we cured your parents and rushed over the next day to do so. The only thing I need you to do is to keep this knowledge to yourself, got it?'

'Yeah Darius!'

'Good! And keep up the confidence. Your parents waking up has done wonders to boost it. And I see you got a new wand; It's best that you did so. Using another's wand, in this case your fathers was holding you back; I look forward to see how well you can do with your own. Now, let's go inside and sit.'

The four of us joked round and enjoyed playing around till the trolley witch came along. I purchased as many sweets as possible and all of us settled down to enjoy them together. Even the twins popped over some time later and brought Lee over with them. We just sat and talked among ourselves the rest of the journey. The twins were particularly enthusiastic about the Owl Order Service, much to the chagrin of Hermione regarding their products. Another thing that I thought about over the summer were my feelings towards Ginny. I liked the girl as a sister, sure, but anything beyond that, not so sure. I did like the character in the canon series but this is not a book; we were in a real world and I would not let my earlier feelings colour the present. I had a nice talk with Hermione as well.

'Well Hermione, how was your summer?'

'It went fine, Darius. But I can't wait to get back to Hogwarts and learn more magic. Can you help me out this year as well. Of course, Hermione. I told you last year; feel free to drop by when you have doubts. I daresay I'm far ahead in studies than all the students in my year, or even the year above that.'

'Someday soon, I'll be able to say that. I'm going to spend a lot of time in the library this year.'

'Under no circumstances should you do that. I know you are a brilliant witch. But dissociating yourself from others will only cause you to be alienated. And your friends can help you with your studies as well. My friend Neville, here, is in your year and a prodigy, perhaps even a savant, as far as Herbology is considered. I have no doubt he would be willing to help you out in exchange for some help with potions.' Neville gave me a thankful smile and nodded vigorously towards Hermione. 'That's how you get ahead with your studies, Hermione. You take help and support others in turn.'

'Wow, I never thought about it like that. Did you do that as well?'

'I am a special case Hermione. I am so far ahead of the others that they couldn't help me even if they wanted. I'm not speaking out of arrogance, merely stating facts. I have been working on my magic and preparing for Hogwarts very early in life. That's not to say I don't need their companionship. Lee and the twins here were a great help in taking my mind of studies. This applies to you as well. You could hang out with Harry or some of the other girls in your year to de-stress, then get back to studying. Not only will this relax your mind, you will find it easier to concentrate after a short break.'

'Thanks for the advice, Darius. I'll try it out.'

We continued talking amongst ourselves until we finally reached Hogsmeade. We had changed into our school robes by then and trooped out of the train onto the platform. Making our way to the school on the Thestral carriages, the twins told me of their further plans for expansion. They first planned to buy out the Zonko's shop in Hogsmeade and then move on to open a store in Diagon Alley. The only thing stopping them was the initial seed money. I offered to invest further but they didn't want to burden me any further. Besides, according to their projected sales, they would have more than the required money in about 2 years.

Finally, we had reached the castle and all of us took our seats for the welcome feast. Harry was already sitting there waiting for us, though Ron was nowhere in sight. Good, that meant he got here in some other manner and didn't fly that wreck of a car. Ron might have panicked and flown it though, he never was one for thinking things through. Thank god Hermione has had a more positive effect on Harry.

Amazing what one change can do. The trio first bonded when they fought against the troll in their first year. However, when I consoled Hermione and thus stopped her from going to the toilet, I set changes in motion. The trio never truly bonded after that. Harry and Hermione got along swell, he even sat with us on some of our informal study sessions. He wasn't a dunderhead by any means, maybe not in Hermione's league but a bright kid nevertheless. He was just held back by that anchor around his neck called Ron Weasley. All Ron was interested in was playing chess, exploding snap, talking quidditch and eating. He even convinced Harry to take the two lousiest electives in their third year. At least according to me, unless you have a seer's gift, you have no business taking Divination. And Care of Magical Creatures is mainly for guys like Charlie Weasley who want to head off and actually work with Dangerous creatures. I'll make sure to talk to Hermione and Harry later about taking sensible electives.

'Thanks for the letter Darius. I had actually started panicking about not being able to get on the platform when the letter came to us. I just had to wait for a while before an Auror trainee called Tonks came over. She said there had been complaints from people on the platform not being able to get through the barrier and she was there to sort it out. After that fiasco was over, I told her about my problem and she brought me here by something called side-along apparition. But I'm a bit worried about Ron. He was panicked and took his dad' flying car to follow the train here. And he hasn't come yet. I think something went wrong midway.'

'I know the car you speak off. I had stayed over with the Weasleys last summer. We can only hope he gets here safely and without exposing himself to muggles. Anyway, he should be back soon. And some teacher or auror will be sent to find him if he doesn't. You made the right decision Harry. No point in flying in that death trap. Ron will probably give you a hard time for not going along with him; but you made the sensible decision.'

The first-years headed in after that and the sorting began. I could see Ginny in the middle of the line looking at the Gryffindor table and gave her a little wave. The sorting didn't take long and all the students got sorted soon enough. There was another familiar name a bit before the youngest Weasley though. Luna Lovegood took her place on the Ravenclaw table as per canon. She had had a rough time in her house due to all the bullying and pranking in canon but I'll make sure none of that stuff happens now. The poor girl might appear to be a ditz but she had a heart of gold and was quite a clever little witch. Also, I'd have to talk to her first, but I'm pretty sure she would be able to help me learn one of my family magics. I'll talk to her about it sometime later.

All the Gryffindors were headed to the tower when I heard Hermione, '...and he has done so many amazing things. Lockhart will be an amazing professor. I hope we learn a lot from him.' Crap! She is infatuated with that preening fool in this timeline as well. I'll have to set that record straight as soon as possible. That fraudster can't teach to save his own life. Maybe I should start the DA early and get the students learning some actual DADA.

The next morning, I woke up after my meditation and headed down for an early breakfast. Hermione was already down at the Great hall with a Lockhart book propped up against the water jug while she had her meal.

'Hi Hermione! Why are you reading that fraudster's book and wasting your time?'

'What do you mean fraudster? Lockhart is an exceptional wizard who has saved so many people from dangerous magical creatures. And Dumbledore must have seen something exceptional in him to choose him for the DADA post.'

'Don't be fooled Hermione. Flophart, as I've take to call him, is a complete and utter fraudster. And Dumbledore chose him because most people believe the DADA post is cursed and he turned out to be the only person who applied.'

'But what about all the things he did. Saving so many people and fighting against all the dark creatures?'

'All the things he says he did! I know you consider books to be almost holy objects but the information in them is written by another ordinary person, just like us. And if the person wants to deceive the readers, well... you get someone like Lockheart.'

'No, no, that can't be possible! He wrote so many things...', she was nearing a break down from all this talk. Well, the fact that someone falsified information in a book must be near scandalous to her. Let's go about this with a different approach. Logic should appeal to her.

'Look at these dates!', I said tossing two of Lockhart's books onto the table. 'See here.', Hermione turned to the book and I pointed at two sections, one in each book. 'He says he fought the yeti at the end of August in 1989 and in this one he says he wrestled that river troll during the Algerian flood. The Algerian flood was the last week of August in 1989! These two events can't possibly have happened at the same time! He lied!'

Hermione was stunned speechless at that. I don't know whether at the fact that someone lied in a book or that she didn't notice that first. Her face started going red from her anger at Flophart.

'Well the man is obviously incompetent but…he's written about these things! To use inaccurate information is one thing but to outright lie? In a book?! Oh, I wish I could give that man a piece of my mind!'

'It's fine, Hermione! Calm down! The fact that he can't teach us doesn't mean that we can't learn ourselves. There's no need to read those rags that he set as DADA textbooks. We can get our own books. And of course, you are free to ask me any doubts you may have.'

'Thanks, Darius! Though you may have calmed me down for now, there is no way I'm going to let that fraud get away with lying in books. I may not accuse him outright, the git would probably wriggle out of it in some way. But I'm going to ruin his reputation. I can't believe I didn't catch those errors in the books; I'm going to go through every one of these books with a fine-tooth comb and then compile all the errors and spread it throughout the school.'

'Damn Hermione! Remind me never to piss you off. But that is a good plan nonetheless. Do as you see fit.'

The hall filled up quickly after and we didn't talk much more on the subject. I did see Hermione talking to the others in the year though. I suspect she wanted to let them know about the fraudster in advance. Ron also came by and started shovelling food down his throat. He did get a standing ovation though. Our house really is full of reckless idiots; a standing ovation for nearly breaking the statute of secrecy and getting himself killed. I understand courage, not being foolhardy.

I had a pleasant morning in transfiguration class. McGonagall started us off with switching spells and as usual, I got the hang of it first. I still practised the spell non-verbal though. It's a pity Fred and George don't put in nearly as much effort as they should. They could have been brilliant if they tried harder. Well, to each his own.

And there it was, DADA with Lockheart in the afternoon. I was sincerely considering bunking the class but decided to go just to see the fraud make a fool of himself.

Lockheart was already standing there at the desk winking at one of the many portraits of himself on the walls; the narcissistic git. He was dressed in his usual garish robes, this time in a plum and gold combination and started speaking as we sat down, 'I am Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award.' Damn! His self-introduction itself made me wish I could hex him senseless.

He set that stupid test with all questions about him. I basically sat there and doodled my plans for rune constructs on a spare parchment for the next hour and handed in a blank paper at the end.

Almost none of the students put any effort into it save some of the fangirls. He made a big show of being disappointed by the class standards but we just ignored him. Realising we couldn't care less, he just ended up with a weak finish and sent us off. Useless git!

C 25

The Hogwarts rumour mill was indeed impressive; almost the entire castle knew about the mismatched dates in Lockheart's textbooks by the end of the day. It was the talk of the students at dinner. And the idiot still didn't realize the situation he was in.

Hermione took a seat at the table with another one of the books and a piece of parchment; I was impressed to see it was already half-full. She must be noting down all the discrepancies in the books.

The first week passed by quickly after that but the rumours only grew. Lockheart was in a very poor position now and most of the students only thought of him as a joke. I hadn't attended a single class since the first. But the brazen fool stuck through it and it didn't seem he would be improving anytime soon. So, I decided to call in the cavalry.

I called in master pranksters Gred and Forge to rid the school of the menace. They were only too happy to help and along with Lee, the four of us set our sights on Lockheart.

Somewhere else in the castle, where Lockheart was strutting around, he got shivers down his back and a very strong sense of trouble coming his way despite not being a seer.

That evening we took the corner seats in the common room to discuss our methods. The twins were looking forward to testing as many of the products as possible. Lee had the most amusing schemes with magical creatures. And I offered to charm everything I could to embarrass him.

We decided to start off tame. The next morning, we went down to the great hall early. Lee came over with the required goods.

"Hey Lee! Got the item?"

He rolled his eyes as he replied in a mock conspiratorial tone, "Got the goods right here."

I grinned as said, "Let's start the prank war. We will prank the arse as many times as required to make him toe the line and not be a prat while teaching."

I did the necessary preparations and we were ready for show time. The rest of the students quickly filed in and the teachers also began taking their places. Some while later Lockheart strode in those garish robes and went over to his seat. The man seemed to love making an entrance, he even made his entries late every time just so he had an audience. Anyways, we waited with bated breath, didn't really need to, what with his pathetic level of skill but this was the first of many and we wanted a successful prank,

PBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPB!

The whole hall fell silent. It was amazing, you could have literally dropped a pin and heard it. We could see Lockheart's face changing colours. A pale bloodless one, to a rather sickly shade of green before turning a rather bright red; maybe the man had a bit of metamorphmagus blood somewhere if he could do that. He stood up with as much dignity as he could muster, which admittedly wasn't much and strode out of the hall towards his classroom.

The silence finally broke and the hall was suddenly full of people who were laughing their guts out. Amazing what such a simple trick can do.

I first took the whoopee cushion Lee got me, disillusioned it and cast a sonorus on it before levitating it to his seat. The result was turning the simplest and most juvenile prank into an amazing tale for Hogwarts breakfast legends. And this was just the beginning.

Over the next few weeks it became a method of unwinding from our coursework to plot our next prank on Lockheart. We went at it every couple of days.

Lee brought ahead his niffler trick against Umbridge and got Lockheart's office trashed. The nifflers must have been delighted with the number of fancy gilt frames, precious quills and other shiny stuff in his office.

The twins didn't let him complete his lessons in peace. They got his hand stuck to the door with sticking charms and watched as he was stuck there for the entire period. They bewitched him to look morbidly obese to everyone else; he must have had a tough day getting disgusted expressions from nearly the entire school staff and children and so on and so forth. And I turned the very castle against him. Random suits of armour would cling to him and give the most embarrassing proposals in a sickeningly sweet voice. Sudden parts of the castle became extremely slippery when he walked there, leading to a fracture and quite a few bruises. Seats developed the annoying habit of biting him on his arse and so on. It was hilarious!!

Eventually he got the hint and kept to his classroom as far as possible. He stopped strutting around and taught his parody of a class. He did need a refresher course of pranks about every 10 days when he started slipping into his old ways and we were happy to provide them whenever required.

The month passed by soon and it was Halloween. I knew that the deathday party was supposed to be today. There is a good chance the first strike of the basilisk happens today. I had initially planned to waylay Ginny but then realized I couldn't stand near the girl's toilet all day. She could go there at any time the entire day, or even the previous day. So, I just warded the corridor from people entering it by accident. Anybody sufficiently determined or controlled like Ginny would have no problems but whoever went there by accident would veer away and avoid the route. It should prevent Harry from being first on the scene and subsequently labelled as Slytherin's heir.

We had a hearty Halloween meal and started heading back to our common rooms. I was expecting the news to get out anytime now but there was no disturbance at all? Maybe the timeline changed somehow? Just as I was starting to feel relieved and we reached the second floor the shouting was audible. I could hear Filch's nasal tones amongst the other voices and sighed. It seemed time had a certain momentum to it.

The castle was all abuzz with the news the next day. There were rumours flying all around about the heir, the chamber of secrets and the monster within it. The entire table had students talking about it.

For a few days, the school could talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. He had to suppress a grin at Hermione when she spent even more time in the library looking up information on how the attack occurred.

"All the copies of Hogwarts, A History have been taken out," Hermione said, sitting down next to Harry and him sitting on the other side.

I raised my eye brows at her and looked over the battle transfiguration book and smiled at her frustration.

"And there's a two-week waiting list. I wish I hadn't left my copy at home, but I couldn't fit it in my trunk with all of Lockhart books."

"Why do you want it?" I asked Harry, already knowing the answer.

"The same reason everyone else wants it," said Lee as he sat next to me, "to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets."

I rolled his eyes and said to them both, "You want to know about the Chamber of Secrets?"

Lee and Hermione looked at each other like, "Duh?"

"Hmm."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You know, don't you? You know about the Chamber of Secrets?" She asked him in disbelief her eyes wide.

The whole table was silent as they stared at me dumbfounded. I just looked at the bushy-haired girl half-interestedly before snapping my book closed and getting up from their table. Put the strap that held his messenger bag over his head and grinned at her.

"You're smart Hermione. You'll figure it out sooner or later."

"Aren't you going to tell us about the chamber?" she asked.

"It's a secret. I don't want to be labelled a snitch for letting the secret out."

I said much to Hermione's frustration and left.

"Arrr! Sometimes he just gets on my nerves." She said in frustration.

The next class was History of Magic and Professor Binns started out with his normal boring information on the Goblin War of 1528 when Hermione raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Greener?" Professor Binns asked confused. In his life or afterlife never had he been interrupted by a student.

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.

You could hear a pin drop in the silence. Professor Binns blinked. Suddenly all the students were paying full attention to him.

"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see ... the Chamber of Secrets." He had a thoughtful look on his transparent face. "You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago- by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Now three of the founders coexisted quite harmoniously. One did not." He paused. "Salazar Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magical families. In other words, pure-bloods. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, because he believed them to be untrustworthy. Unable to sway the others, he decided to leave the school. Now according to the legend, he sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unleash the horror within and use it to purge the school of all those who in Slytherin's view, were unworthy to study magic."

Professor Binns adjusted his glasses. "The school has been searched dozens of times. No such chamber has been found." He turned to the chalkboard. Hermione's hand shot back in the air. "Professor? What exactly does legend tell, lies in the Chamber?"

"The Chamber is said to home to something that only the Heir of Slytherin can control. It is said to be the home of a monster." Binns shook his head and said, "I tell you, the chamber does not exist. There is no Chamber and no there is no monster. And we are done with this discussion." There was no room for arguing.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Hermione asked me after the class, at dinner.

I just shrugged at her. "I thought you would figure it out." I said honestly.

"Do you really think there is a Chamber of Secrets?" she asked Harry.

"Yes." I said clearly.

Hermione started, "All of the teachers are worried. The Heir of Slytherin has returned to Hogwarts. The question is who it is?"

Ron, who was sitting nearby snorted and said, "Let's think. Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum? It's obviously Mal-"

I interrupted him, "If you're talking about Malfoy you're wrong. Malfoy isn't the heir. He isn't qualified to be the heir of Slytherin. He may have been sorted to Slytherin house but he acts more like a Gryffindor than us most of the times. Always jumping in without planning or any iota of cunning."

The information about the chamber spread through the students through various sources and it didn't help the mood of the students. That was when the duelling club commencement was announced. Last year's club had been amazing and the students were eager to join again this year, especially considering the circumstances! I was also looking forward to it.

Duelling skill depends on a variety of reasons. I was in excellent physical health, so dodging and moving around was easy for me. According to the book Duelling for Novices, dodging properly was a very highly rated skill. It is much better than trying to shield against spells; they might be unblockable like the Unforgivables or simply powerful enough to tear through them. I have a wide array of basic spells at the schooling level but not much beyond that. But true duellists can make use of the entire field of battle. Charming the surroundings, transfiguring the ground, conjuring objects, spell deflection and so on. I will be able to take out almost any of the students in school, maybe even a few normal magicians. But anyone with any formal training like Aurors or Unspeakables are far beyond me. I may have magical power almost at par with them but my knowledge of how to use it is far from sufficient. I have to find a way to get much better at it and fast.

The duelling club was scheduled to be about 10 days after the Halloween incident and the entire school's students were looking forward to it but it was a different scene in the staff room.

"Why is that git teaching the students, Filius? The students are looking forward to this and he will ruin the club for them if he tries to teach them."

"I don't know, Minerva. It seems that he went to the headmaster and cited his position as DADA professor better suited to teach the students duelling. And in the normal course of things, he would be right. But he isn't exactly up to the standards of a normal DADA professor, is he?"

Professors Flitwick and McGonagall weren't happy about Lockheart butting into the Duelling club managed by them. They had had an interesting time handling the club and didn't want to see it go to waste.

The problem was that the headmaster wasn't truly aware of just how poor Lockheart's skills were. The man was the headmaster of Hogwarts, premier school of magic in Magical Britain; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, the judicial body of the country and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, the magical equivalent of the United Nations. All three of them were full-time positions and thus he had to delegate a lot of tasks to others. He may be a powerful wizard but managing the three positions was no mean task.

"Will you be going with him, Minerva?"

"No thanks. I will not be able to stand aside as he ruins the club if I'm there. It will be better if I don't go. And you, Filius?"

"After hearing what you have to say, I don't think I'll be going either. Let's see what he can do first."

Of course, I didn't know about what was happening and quite looked forward to the club. Maybe I could convince McGonagall to teach me further applications of battle transfiguration. Reading the books and practising in the Room of Requirement only gets you so far, Learning the practical from a sorcerer like her will be amazing.

A Sorcerer is a very high level of attainment in your chosen field. Students often study till NEWTs and take up jobs. But anyone with any modicum of ability will choose to apprentice themselves to a mentor who will teach them further. Apprentices can take the next step of becoming a Master by clearing a review by a panel of masters in the respective subjects. Apprenticeship is not necessary to become masters, but it is highly recommended. People even take multiple apprenticeships if they are good enough. Masters in a field can be granted the title of Sorcerers for reaching the pinnacle of their fields. They are judged by an international panel and there are less than a score of Sorcerers in the entirety of Magical Britain. And finally, there are Grand Sorcerers, people who have pushed the boundaries of their respective fields beyond the norms. They are judged by a panel of Sorcerers and Grand Sorcerers. Dumbledore is one of them for his discovery of the 12 uses of Dragon's blood. There are less than a dozen of them across the world.

McGonagall and Flitwick as well as Snape are Sorcerers in their fields and masters in a few others. Dumbledore is a Grand Sorcerer in Alchemy and a Sorcerer in the fields of Transfiguration, DADA and Charms.

One day, I'll gain these titles and carry them proudly!!

C 26

Before the duelling club could commence again, it was time for the quidditch season to begin again. It was the first match of the season and between the rival houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin. As far as I can remember, this is the match where Harry is struck by the rogue bludger and sent to the medical wing under Madam Pomfrey's tender ministrations.

I wondered if Dobby would bewitch the bludger this time around. I really hoped he did; I had plans for that lovable little house-elf. He was as loyal as can be and would be a good helper in my own plans.

The morning dawned with fabulous weather and all the students made their way to the pitch to see the match. The Gryffindor team was all pumped up for the first game of the season and the Slytherin looked like the normal collection of gorillas other than the notable exception of Draco Malfoy. The rich brat got on the team using money, exactly like canon. I purposefully left late for the match and made my way to the grounds on my own. On the way I cast the disillusionment charm on myself and stood there on the ground under the raised stands.

My plan was simple. Since the bludger was continuously following Hary, I was hoping Dobby would be somewhere nearby controlling it. I planned to talk to him so that I could tell him my plans and get him to lay off Harry. The match begun and the players took off. I was keeping a careful eye around to see if I could spot Dobby. I knew it was bit of a long shot but the chance was too important to mess up. About 10 minutes into the game, the bludger began to steadily go after Harry only and I started looking forward for the little elf. Finally, after about another 10 minutes, I saw the elf crouching under one of the stands of the commentator box. I slowly made my way towards him, having already cast muffliato on myself, so as to not frighten him. I knew it would be difficult to magically capture him as I couldn't cast anti-elf wards yet or rather, hadn't learnt them yet. So, I thought to come out straight and try to talk it out. Dobby was a relatively smart elf and should be amenable to talking.

"Psst! Hey Dobby!", I called out from abut 10 feet away,

The little elf sort of stiffened up in fright and turned around towards me. He looke d a bit surprised to see no one before he clicked his fingers. He turned towards me, where I stood with the disillusionment charm broken and asked, "Who be you? How be you knowing Dobby's name?"

I tried to give as comforting smile as possible and said, "I know about you Dobby but I will tell you some other time how. I want to help Harry as well, just like you are trying. So, I wanted to talk to you about it."

"You be helping great Harry Potter Sir? Youse be great person too. But Dobby must do his part. Hogwarts is not safe. Great danger is there. Harry Potter Sir must stay safe."

"I know about the Chamber of Secrets, Dobby. As well as the diary."

"Y-y-y-ou know? How? Master Malf-", and he went rigid and started hitting himself on the support beams going, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

I chose that moment to fire off a stunner and got him right on the back. After prying his fingers away from the beam, I conjured a small pallet for the two of us and used rennervate on him.

"Thank you! Thank you for saving Dobby! You being a great person as well!"

"All right Dobby! I see you are a good house-elf who tries to protect their master's secrets. But I don't want you to punish yourself. So, what we'll do is, I'll speak and you listen; you can't punish yourself if the person already knows your master's secret. If you feel you have anything important you can tell me, you may do so."

"Yes, great sir. But what be your name?"

"My name is Darius, Dobby. Now the problem is your plan to save Harry will not work. He loves Hogwarts too much to leave easily. So, we will go about it from another angle. We will make Hogwarts safe instead. You know there is great danger in Hogwarts from your master as well as about the Diary but you don't know what it actually is. None of the Hogwarts elves do, or they would have informed the staff or headmaster about it."

"Yes, Darius sir! I be not knowing the exact danger. But I know about Chamber of Secrets opening and I be felt the vile magic in Diary. Very dark, very evil. No normal person can do that."

"You are absolutely right, Dobby. No normal person did that. But we will speak of that later. The true danger with the opening of the chamber is that there is a 1000-year-old basilisk inside it."

Even Dobby couldn't help but gasp at that. He looked even more determined and stared at me. "You being sure? And can youse save Harry Potter Sir and everyone else?"

"I am sure Dobby. Now, about my plan; I know you will start hitting yourself if I ask you, so I will tell you outright – I plan on tricking Lucius Malfoy into freeing you. And if you are agreeable to it, would like to bond with you."

"You be wanting to bond with Dobby? Truly?"

"Yes Dobby! Most definitely! I know you can't do anything to secure your release yourself, so, I will be taking care of that. But I know elves can hear when somebody calls them. They only have to unconditionally answer to their masters but can choose whether to do so or not when it comes to any other. So, I want you to answer my call, unless, of course, if you are serving the Malfoys at the time. Can you do that, Dobby?"

See, what I understood of Dobby was not that he wanted to be free, but that he wanted to be free of the Malfoys. My studies indicate that House elf physiology requires them to be bonded to an individual wizard, a wizarding family or a magically saturated wizarding dwelling, like Hogwarts. They live in a symbiotic relationship and share his/her magic in exchange for performing services. The alternative is a slow and prolonged death from lack of magical power. It is a painful way to go. This way, I could hit two birds with one stone; get Dobby away from the abusive Malfoys and get a house-elf of my own, one of them would be dead useful.

"Yes, Darius sir! Dobby does that!"

"Alright Dobby! That's all for now. I hope to see you again soon."

"Thank you, great Darius Sir! Dobby will leave now. But before leaving, Dobby makes one last attempt to make Harry Potter leave Hogwarts."

And with a click, he disapparates away right in front of me. I look up just in time to see Harry get hit by the bludger, somehow maintain his balance and then lunge forward to get the snitch before coming down and collapsing on the pitch. I forget about Dobby for a second and rush onto the pitch. I can only hope I get there in time before that prat Lockhart.

I skidded to a stop just in front of crowd and was just in time to see Lockhart kneeling on the pitch and rolling up his sleeves. Before he could cast the spell, I shouted, "PROTEGO!" and put up the strongest shield I could. By this time Lockhart had swung his wand down and the coloured jet of light impacted my shield and was immediately bounced bac at his wand arm.

Oh, this was so much better than I hoped. I was merely trying to shield Harry from the nincompoop removing all his bones but the rebound de-boned him instead. It was amazing. He took one look at the arm, rolled his eyes upward and straight out fainted. None of the students bothered with him. Madam Hooch along with a couple of girls like Lavender and Parvati took him up to the Hospital wing. The Gryffindor team had long since taken him up to the medical wing on a stretcher I had conjured up.

I visited Harry later, just to check up on him. The Gryffindor team and Hermione were still there though I could see madam Pomfrey starting to get irritated.

"Hi Harry! How are you doing?"

"Hi Darius. I'm fine. Madam Pomfrey told me I would be fixed up in no time. I just have to take a minor potion and she will work her magic on me to heal me up. I should be out of here in another 1 minutes. Thanks for the shield though. Lockhart's going to be here for the night, after he is fed something called skele-gro. Something which the rest of the team has assured me I do not want to drink."

"Think nothing of it. The man has had no medical training whatsoever and is not a certified healer by any means. Being a healer is one of the most challenging careers and I don't want an unqualified man messing up my friend. As you saw earlier, he has completely removed the bones from his hand instead of healing them."

I turned to the rest of the team after this, "You lot should keep this in mind as well. You are quidditch players and are likely to get injured once in a while. Immediately come here and get yourself treated."

Madam Pomfrey had walked up at this time. "Well said, Mr Icarus! 20 points to Gryffindor for the correct explanation of medical protocol. Never get yourself healed by unqualified personnel. You are more likely to end up in bed than stay off it. Now, off with all of you. Mr Potter will be in excellent condition in 15 minutes and thereafter re-join you in the Gryffindor tower.

The team, Hermione and I waited outside for less than the promised 15 minutes before harry came out, fit as a fiddle. We all headed up to the Gryffindor tower for celebrating the victory. Well not so much celebrating for me; I headed up to my dorm to do some more studying on Arithmancy. The subject was so interesting and I could see what went into the creation of spells.

Arithmancy was a numerological study. It could be used for anything from using numbers and several other variables to predict the future to creating mathematical models of spell functions for modifying or creating a spell. I had only touched on the basics of the subject to create the fortis memoriae and with further study, was confident to do so much more. It would also tie in nicely with my Ancient rune studies in the creation of magically enchanted objects.

I was at peace that night and settled in to meditate for the night but something didn't feel right. I was relieved that there would likely be no incident tonight as without Harry's presence in the medical wing there was no reason for Colin to visit him at night. But there was a lingering sense of foreboding. I cleared my mind though and started meditating for the night.

My inner body channelling was coming along nicely. Though the effect wasn't as startlingly prominent as in the initial years, it was still an astonishing pace at which my magical powers increased. By the end of this academic year I should be well past the equivalent of a normal witch/wizard and headed into the ranks of the powerful; at least speaking in terms of raw magical power. I had perused a good bit of the Hogwarts library on any record of any similar methods and only found a few books on the method in a travelogue book about the Asian nations. I will have to look into it further later but I think age plays a very important role in this method. Starting the training as young as possible is the only way to circulate the magic throughout the body without damaging it. Only when the total amount is small enough, can the body acclimatize to the effect of the circulating magical powers. I suspect any adult or even teen trying to do the same would feel a backlash from their own magic or even worse if they try to force it. I got lucky with the discovery at a very young age.

The next morning, I headed down from the dorms to the common room as usual when I noticed the sombre mood in the common room. I didn't need to be a seer to notice something bad had happened. I looked around and thankfully saw Colin on a small stool, so, it was not his petrification.

I soon found out I was wrong. It was a petrification but not Colin's. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil had been found petrified at night near the hospital wing. They both had been carrying 'Get Well' cards, supposedly for Lockhart. The two of them had compact mirrors in their hands.

I, of course, knew what the likely sequence of events was. The girls must have sneaked down to pass Flophart the cards. They must have been doing up their make up when they saw the basilisk eyes and were thus petrified.

I can only breathe a sigh of relief that the girls aren't dead. This was an extremely close call which could have gone very wrong. I guess the future has started shifting beyond my anticipations. I shall have to be even more careful from now.

C 27

After the schoolwide shock at the petrification of the students, there was a scramble to learn more magic, get lucky charms and amulets, and other dubious objects to ensure safety. The students were quite afraid and it was hampering the mood in the entire castle. The one light on the horizon were the upcoming Duelling classes.

The students were really looking forward to it and there was a poster set up in each of the common rooms that said that even 1st years will be allowed this year. The only problem was that I had this feeling of unease regarding it. I had worries regarding Flophart. The fool better not muscle his way into the classes and ruin them.

The day of the duelling class dawned and there was finally some semblance of normality in the castle. Almost all the students gathered for the lessons, at least those other than those of the top years. I was standing there with the twins and Lee as usual. We were among the best duellists last year and were looking forward to see our improvements.

Harry, Hermione and several other Gryffindors soon joined us and all the other houses got together as well. We had another 10 minutes to go before the scheduled time and the juniors were eagerly asking for advice about the duelling and the standards of the students in the last year.

Hermione sidled up to me and asked, "It isn't dangerous, is it? I mean, I know how important it is but I'm somewhat scared of what might happen."

I reassured her, "Nothing will happen, 'Mione! We were in the club last year and it was awesome. Some students did suffer very minor injuries but they were set to rights by Madam Pomfrey in no time at all." She blushed at the shortened version of her name but did not ask me to not do so. I grinned. I was liking the little bookworm more and more by the day.

I had told myself that I would not judge people by what I read of them but by what I know of them in this world. But I still ended up liking her. Well, no harm in seeing where it goes.

And then I saw the two of them and let out a loud groan. It was Flophart and Snape. I don't know how this came about but this is a disaster. I would have thought that the changes that I had wrought would be enough to stop this from happening in this time line but apparently some things just don't change.

"Crap! This is going to be a waste of time. Flophart and the greasy Bat would be equally pants at teaching us to duel. One of them doesn't know how to and the other couldn't be bothered to do so properly."

'Mione, who had been thoroughly disabused of the notion of Lockhart's greatness was of the same opinion. But the hall was full now and we were right near the front. There was no way of leaving without drawing excessive attention to ourselves.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all here me? Excellent!"

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to take over this little duelling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions – for full details, see my published works."

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, lashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry – you'll still have you Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

It was shockingly similar to the events that happened in the original timeline and in fact, felt a bit eerie.

"Now I realize that some of you have been trained last year. While I do not wish to put down other teachers, I will admit that my teachings should serve you a lot better. Now, I shall show our first-timers the demo to let them have a look at duelling in its true form.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured, watching Snape barring his teeth.

"One – two – three –"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried, "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered. Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!", he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm – as you see, I've lost my wand – ah, thank you, Miss Dunbar – yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy – however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…"

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me –"

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape reached Harry and 'Mione first.

"Time to split up the dream team, I think," he sneered. "Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter -"

Harry moved automatically toward me.

"I don't think so," said Snape, smiling coldly. "Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Granger – you can partner with Miss Bulstrode."

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"

Harry and Malfoy barely inclined their heads, not taking their eyes off each other.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents – only to disarm them – we don't want any accidents – one…two…three –"

"Harry swung his wand high, but Malfoy had already started on "two". His spell hit Harry so hard he was pushed back several steps. He stumbled, but wasting no more time, Harry pointed his wand straight at Malfoy and shouted, "Rictusempra!"

A jet of silver light hit Malfoy in the stomach and he doubled up, wheezing.

"I said disarm only!" Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Malfoy sank to his knees; Harry had hit him with a Tickling Charm, and he could barely move for laughing. Harry hung back, with a vague feeling it would be unsporting to bewitch Malfoy while he was on the floor, but this was a mistake; gasping for breath, Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry's knees, choked, "Tarantallegra!" and the next second Harry's legs began to jerk around out of control in a kind of quickstep.

"Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart, but even before Snape could take charge, I was already on the move, "Finite Incantatem!" I muttered; Harry's feet stopped dancing, Malfoy stopped laughing, and they were able to look up.

A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting; Ron was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus, apologizing for whatever his broken wand had done; but Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode were still moving; Millicent had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain; both their wands lay forgotten on the floor.

I got her loose with a quick Relashio and sent off a stinging hex at Bulstrode for good measure.

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, Macmillan…. Careful there, Miss Fawcett…. Pinch it hard, it's stop bleeding in a second, Boot–"

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair – Weasley and Finch-Fletchley, how about you –"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Weasley would cause devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Ron's face went as red as his hair. "How about Malfoy and Potter?" said Snape with a twisted smile.

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.

"Now, Harry," said Lockhart. "When Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops – my wand is a little overexcited –"

Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy smirked, too.

Harry looked at me nervously and said, "Darius help me out here; show me something useful."

I was worried too. So far things had gone nearly the same as canon and I didn't want the poor guy too suffer through being called the Heir of Slytherin over the next half year. The way things were going, it was extremely likely that Malfoy would use the serpensortia spell and Harry would use Parseltongue to stop it from harming others. While I couldn't stop Malfoy without raising suspicion, I could handle things from Harry's end.

I leant in and muttered, "You only need to point the wand straight at Malfoy and say depulso with all the magic you can muster. It's the banishing charm and slightly high level for you but I think, with your level of talent, you will be able to manage it."

"Scared?" muttered Malfoy, so that Lockhart couldn't hear him.

"You wish," said Harry out of the corner of his mouth.

Harry looked at me with a nervous glance but I just gave him a confident grin and gave him a thumbs up.

Lockhart stood and the back, "Three – two – one – go!" he shouted.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, "Serpensortia!" but Harry was just as fast and got his spell out at the same time.

The end of Malfoy's wand exploded. Everyone watched, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. By this time the overpowered banishing charm had hit Malfoy and he had flown back 20 feet in the air and landed in a crumpled heap off the stage. Snape had rushed to him, the slimy git, while Lockhart seemed to be barely holding in his panic.

Lockhart brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. I took the time to cast a strong Muffliato on Harry. I couldn't let everyone know about his Parseltongue abilities as of yet.

The snake was enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward a petrified Neville and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Harry walked forward and shouted something at the snake, probably in Parseltongue but none of us heard it. The snake was about to lunge forward when I got it with a stupefy and stunned it.

Snape finally stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape was looking at me with a glint in his eye and I could see he wasn't too happy with my help to Harry.

Lockhart finally pulled himself together and stepped forward with his ridiculous grin, "Ah, excellent job, Mr Icarus. I was hoping somebody here could step up to the challenge. Not everyone is as brave as I am and step up to every opponent. This was just a small test to see the abilities of my students."

The foppish idiot even tried to turn this around in his favour. I gave him the most murderous look I could muster; one that foretold of enormous pain if he did not shut up. He got the hint and spoke up, "While we had a wonderful class and I'm sure you all learnt a lot, there has been lot of excitement for one evening and we will adjourn for the evening.

Harry walked over to me, "Thanks a lot for that Darius! What spell was that?"

"That was the banishing charm, the opposite of the summoning spell. I wasn't a hundred percent sure you would be able to do it well, so, I told you to overpower the spell. Turns out, you did it just fine, and the extra power blew him several feet more than normal. Well done, Harry."

Mione finally couldn't hold it in anymore and asked me, "What did you do to Harry, Darius? I was right next to you so I noticed the spell you cast on Harry before dealing with the snake."

"You are absolutely right Mione, I did. There is a reason as to why I did so and I will tell you in a more private spell."

Mione looked like she wanted to argue but finally huffed and started to follow us. Harry also looked surprised and a bit curious. We took one of the shortcuts from the great hall to a place very near to the Gryffindor tower. The both of them followed me as we made our way into an abandoned room.

I sealed the door and stunned the only two portraits in the room. I then cast almost all the wards I knew on the room to seal us off before turning to face them. They looked a bit surprised when I stunned the portraits and then had no clue when I fired off several spells in rapid succession.

"Alright you two, for Harry's sake, what I'm about to tell you should stay between us. Harry would be severely ostracized if this gets out. Harry happens to be a Parseltongue."

Harry looked a bit bemused but Mione gasped. She already knew the significance of that fact.

I had to explain to him, "Harry, Parselongue is the ability to speak to snakes. One of the most well-known Parseltongue was Salazar Slytherin; and that is why the symbol of his house is a snake. If you revealed this ability in the hall, you would have been immediately taken to be Slytherin's heir."

"But I'm not Slytherin's heir. And I did talk to the snake; everyone must have seen it."

"You can't possibly know whether or not you are Slytherin's heir. Slytherin lived a 1000 years ago; it is very likely half the students here are related to him in some way. What everyone means when they mention Heir is the Heir apparent, the person who is in the direct line of inheritance.

And you don't need to worry about anybody hearing you. I used a spell that created a field of white noise around you. Nobody would have heard you. Just be careful not to reveal this fact to anybody."

After that, we headed for the common room and got there just as the rest of the students were reaching. I asked them to wait, while I got something from my trunk. I went upstairs and got the book on the Basics of Mind Magic and created two duplicates with the Geminio charm and grounded them with permanence runes. I gave both of them one copy each after casting a glamour on them that made them seem like a book on DADA.

"The two of you need to learn this. It contains a very important skill called Occlumency. The skill allows you to prevent others from reading your mind. Higher levels of proficiency can get you better memory recall, emotional control, higher thought processing capability and the ability to access your mind expanse.

There are people in this castle who read others minds. I would rather you are able to shield yourselves from them. Put in diligent efforts and I will be testing you once a week. I will also not tell you who they are, in case you start behaving differently around them and that makes them suspicious enough to pry into your mind."

The two of them both looked a bit shaken up to know there were people capable of reading minds in the castle and hurriedly took the books.

We parted ways to our own dorms and I turned in for the night.

C 28

I hoped I had impressed the importance of occlumency on the two of them and that they would be able to pick up the skill quickly.

I was not in a good mood as of late. My most important asset was foreknowledge of the future but it was slipping out of my grasp too quickly. I, of course, knew that I would slowly change the future but I wanted it to be on my terms as far as possible.

The Chamber of Secrets business was causing more trouble than it was worth and I wanted it to end quickly. Going down to the chamber and killing the basilisk was one way but I still had some preparations to do before that.

Obviously, the diary was a more important objective. I didn't want a teenage Riddle running around creating mayhem, which is what would happen if the horcrux completely possessed Ginny.

Now it was time to use the services of Dobby. I called out aloud, "Dobby!"

"Great Darius sir has called for Dobby?"

"Yes Dobby. I want you to steal me something from the Gryffindor tower. Can you do that?"

"Dobby can do that. Hogwarts House-elveses is not being supposed to steal from students but Dobby can do. What does Darius sir want?"

"Dobby, I want you to steal the diary that Lucius Malfoy gave Ginny Weasley. She should be having it somewhere in her room. Use your innate elf magic to hide yourself and don't get caught."

"Great Darius sir, it is very dangerous. That is evil, powerful object. It will harm you."

"I know about its power Dobby. Currently, I know more about its origins than anyone else and will be extra careful in handling it."

"Alright great Darius sir! Dobby will get diary for you. Dobby will be sneaky-sneaky"

"Thanks Dobby! Get it to me only when I am completely alone. I don't want to reveal that I have the diary to anyone. And I have already thought up my plan of freeing you. I should be able to do so in a couple of days."

"Thank you! Thank you, great Darius sir! Dobby will be going now."

Classes went by one after the other but Darius wasn't able to pay any attention today. He wondered if Dobby will be pull it off.

The other thing Darius had to do was to make his way down to the chamber itself; though he was at a loss as to how he would do it without the ability of Parseltongue. He was also not a hundred percent sure whether he will be able to draw the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Dobby could get him the sorting hat of course, but there was the requirement of being a true Gryffindor. Somebody like him, who had the qualities of all the houses in nearly equal measure may or may not qualify for that.

That night, when Darius was in in his four-poster bed with the hangings drawn, Dobby appeared at the foot of the bed with the diary in his hand.

Yes!! He was almost dancing a jig within his mind. His occlumency training helped him control his emotions so he didn't whoop in joy but he was very happy nonetheless. The loyal elf managed to do it. He got the diary for me!! With this my plans would move ahead. Darius took the diary from him and told the elf to meet him tomorrow at the edge of the lake. Dobby nodded happily and disappeared again.

Darius went to sleep with a wide grin that night.

The next day, Darius brought out the diary from under the pillow to write in it. That is when his hand screeched to a halt. This was not part of the plan. What was he doing?

He quickly took the diary and put it inside a chest of drawers inside my expanded trunk. His plan involved getting a hold of the diary since the first year but to simply desire to start writing was too bizarre. Especially considering he knew the true nature of the object.

He quickly uncovered another suspicious occurrence. Ginny was a daughter of a pure-blood family. There was no way she would trust an object which was obviously dark in nature. Of course, later down the line, when she had been charmed by Riddle, was a different matter but why didn't she tell someone in the beginning.

These suspicions coupled with the reaction Darius had just now pointed to just one thing. There was an extremely powerful compulsion charm, probably anchored with the dark arts, cast on the diary. That would ensure whosoever got the diary would at least start writing in the diary instead of just tossing it away.

It was an excellent trap. Most people would be ensnared before they realised what was happening. In fact, despite knowing about it's true nature, Darius was almost taken in by the charm. Already having a plan regarding the diary and the divergence from the aforementioned likely shook him out of the effects of the spell. His advanced occlumency abilities probably helped further.

But this did throw a wrench in Darius' plans to learn further; it had been his intention from the start to get the diary for the sole purpose of learning from Riddle's memory. Though he might be a decent magician with above average magical power and skills, there were too many people with the power to easily defeat him for his liking.

Hogwarts may have once been a premier school of magic but Darius felt, no, knew that was no longer the case. Two wizarding wars had thrown the country into a tizzy. Magical Britain's population was at a low; the Ministry was supremely corrupt and absolutely useless; education had been curbed and so much more.

The Ministry, in its panic in the aftermath of two dark lords in the gap of less than five decades, had massively reduced the knowledge taught at educational institutions in its attempt to stop the rise of a third one. The standards of OWLs exams about 50 years ago was on par with the NEWTs level today. Not to mention the higher levels. He wanted, no, needed to learn more. And who better than the most recent Dark lord in the nation.

Those plans blew up in his face though. No way was he going anywhere near the diary if it could ensnare him that easily despite his abilities. He deeply regretted it, but the only choice now was to destroy the object. He needed to get down to chamber to get the basilisk venom.

The next few days passed uneventfully but he was continually racking his brain as to how he could enter the chamber.

He could flat out explain everything to Harry and ask him to open the passage. But that would lead to awkward questions as to the source of his information. Also, Harry was not at all proficient in Occlumency yet and thus Darius ran a risk of his secrets getting plucked out of Harry's head.

Another alternative was obliviating Harry after the task was complete but this idea left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn't want to do that to his own friend. Also, unless memory charms were massively overpowered like the case of Lockhart's backfire, the memories may gradually return. And he didn't want to risk that.

Darius' plan with Dobby had come along well and the elf was extremely excited about it, He had handed a letter to Dobby with strict instructions on what to do.

Later that day, at the Malfoy Manor, an elf popped into existence. Dobby took the letter handed to him by Darius and following his instructions, placed the letter on the front porch of the manor.

After a while, Dobby returned and took the letter to Lucius Malfoy, who was examining some documents in his study.

"Master, a letter has arrived with your name on it."

"So, what are you standing around for, you imbecile? Give me the letter."

Dobby quietly placed the letter on the table and backed away. Lucius opened the sealed letter after going over with it with some detection charms and started reading. As he read, his face became paler by the second before he finally finished.

He growled at Dobby, "Where did you get this letter?"

"Dobby gets it from the front porch. It was lying there."

"Get out of my sight."

Dobby gave a barely visible grin before vanishing. The plan had worked out perfectly. Darius had asked Dobby to leave the letter on the porch and then bring it to Lucius for a reason. He knew there was a good chance that Lucus would ask for the source of the letter. Dobby, being his bonded house elf would have to answer truthfully. But Darius pulled a leaf from Kreacher's book and told Dobby to lie by omission. He merely replied to Lucius as to where he had picked up the letter from and not the true source of the letter. There was no way the plan would work if Lucius knew the true sender of the letter was a mere student at Hogwarts.

Lucius sat in his opulent chair as he mulled over the contents of the letter.

Lucius Malfoy

It has come to my attention that an object belonging to a previous student from 50 years ago has come to Hogwarts. Your role in its appearance in the hands of a first-year student has been noted and being further looked up. Entities of a more officious nature may soon be called upon. The only interval to do away with the issue would be till tomorrow. I urge you to take the opportunity while you still can. Holder of said object is likely to be at the school gates tomorrow morning. And very malleable with a simple offering of gold.

A well wisher

Lucius obviously understood that this was about the diary. He had had no clue as to the true nature of the object as Voldemort had never deigned to explain it to him. The only thing he knew was that it was a dark object that could have caused a great deal of trouble to the Weasley family. He was also pretty sure that it was somehow connected to the opening of the Chamber of Secrets and the revelation that he had a part to play in that would cause him no small troubles. No, he had to get a hold of the diary before any further investigation. And gold; gold was the foundation of the reputation built up by the Malfoy family. They had no dearth of it. Now, the only thing to do was to find out who this well-wisher was. Maybe Snape?

The next morning Dobby was standing a little way inside the castle gates. He was under a glamour that made him appear like a middle-aged guy with a tired look and normal clothing. He was supposed to come across as a guy at a dead-end job with no particular financial backing. Only a few minutes later, Lucius Malfoy walked up to him. He was dressed as usual in immaculate robes and holding his polished stick in hand.

"Mr Malfoy, what a pleasure to meet you here."

Dobby, as instructed by Darius, made an anticipating look that made him look like a greedy fellow. The plan was to seemingly hoodwink the Malfoy of his gold but really to gain freedom for Dobby from his abusive master.

Malfoy surreptitiously struck up a conversation with the man and found out that he was waiting here for the arrival of Madam Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. A strict but fair woman who could not be influenced by Malfoy gold in the least. He had to take the diary now.

"What is that you are carrying in your hand?"

"I am sorry, Mr Malfoy but I'm not supposed to tell anyone that. But I'm sure a fine upstanding member of society such as yourself could find something that interests me in exchange for a closer look at the object."

Malfoy had to try hard not to grin at that. Things were going just the way he hoped. His well-wisher was right on the mark with the man's description. Things just became a lot easier.

He quietly handed over an endless pouch with a hundred galleons and took up a closer look at the diary. It certainly looked a lot like the diary he slipped into the Weasley girl's books but there was something different about it. It took a minute before he could put his finger on it. It didn't have the customary aura of danger and coldness that most dark objects did and seemed more like a regular object, though somehow magical in nature.

That is when Dobby spoke up, "Could you hand me that please. That is the copy made for some examination purposes. I gave you the wrong one by accident. Here is the original one."

He held up a different diary, identical in looks up to Malfoy. Malfoy felt relieved. Merlin be thanked that he didn't abscond with the copy. And that explains the different feeling as well. And the gullible fool even handed him the original. Now, he just had to get the other one and escape after wiping the man's memory.

Malfoy exchanged diaries and looked down at the diary he held. Surprisingly, this one was near identical to the first one in its magical aura. There was still none of the customary feel of dark objects. He lifted his head to speak up when he noticed. There was no one around. The man he had just been talking to had just disappeared. He turned around to look at the gate and saw the man disapparate from just beyond the school boundaries. He had been tricked.

Dobby arrived next to Darius who was standing near the lake with a small pop. And immediately hugged him around his knees.

"Thank you! Thank you so much, Darius sir! Youse have saved me. Dobby being your elf now?"

"It was no problem Dobby. And you have helped me a lot as well. But are you sure you want to bond to me?"

"Yes sir. Dobby is not bad elf. Dobby wants to have family to serve. But Dobby likes feedom to choose. And Dobby chooses great sir Darius."

C 29

Most of the younger students were extremely disappointed with the duelling club. The senior students had given glowing recommendations about the club but Lockhart had completely and utterly ruined it for them.

As usual, Mione came up with the solution. She got the same idea as in the original timeline; a group for learning DADA as well as duelling. And her obvious choice of teacher happened to be Darius. He had skipped a year of classes and yet maintained the top position in classes. He was also the best in his group when it came to duelling.

"Darius, would you be willing to teach me as well as a few others DADA as well as some duelling. I know you are the top of the class and one of the best at duelling."

"I have no problem teaching you and Harry. What I want to know is how many others will be joining in. And I will only teach those I choose to do so. There will also be no house discrimination. I want students from all houses to be able to join the group if they choose to do so."

"Alright then, that seems simple enough. I will start asking around to see if anyone else is interested. Should I keep it restricted to my year only? I suppose you will have a easier time teaching those in lower years."

"You got that right. I will only teach those in mine or younger years. I don't think the seniors would take it very well to be taught by a junior."

"Ok, I'll keep that in mind. Can you also speak to some professor about being our club-in-charge? We can't form a club without a supervisor."

"Alright, I'll speak to Flitwick. He should be agreeable to forming such a club."

Later that day, after charms classes, Darius walked up to the diminutive professor. He gave Flitwick the club proposal and asked for permission to form it.

"I have absolutely no problem with the formation of such a club, Mr Icarus. In fact, I am eagerly looking forward to the results. But you will have to wait a few days for the required permissions. Such a club will require permission from at least a couple more professors as well as the Headmaster."

"Thank you for the consideration, professor. Please let me know the result at your earliest convenience."

It took another couple of days to get the permission but Darius put the time to good use. The talk about the club reminded him about the room of requirement. Of course, he would not be fool enough to reveal it to the entire school. And they had an official club, so there was no need to hide at all. The room of requirement was a priceless resource and he had been squandering it all this while. Well, he would put it to good use henceforth.

While he did use to go there regularly in his first year for all the stuff in the room of lost things, he did not need to do so very often now. He had the highly enchanted trunk now and only needed to go there once in a fortnight to stock up his spatial pouch. But he had been neglecting one of the most important uses of the room and by Merlin, he would do so no longer.

He headed to the room that very night. The first room he asked for, was a room to train his own duelling skills and enhance his knowledge about it. He entered after walking past the wall thrice and what a sight it was. The room had extended into a long range with dummy targets at one end. The other side of the room there will human targets with wands in their hands. The wall next to him had an expanse of bookshelves with a wide variety of books filled in.

The range was obviously for target practice. Each dummy next to the other was at a further distance. He started there and it was rather cathartic to let loose completely. He had to restrain himself whenever he duelled others; both, so that he didn't injure them severely and that he didn't draw any unwanted attention to his true skills.

Expulso! Depulso! Confringo! Bombarda! Incendio! Reducto!

He got up to the sixth target before being unable to go any further. To be a valid hit, each target had to be pushed back a certain distance or destroyed up to a certain percentage and he could only do so up to the fifth one. That means, he was a middle-level duellist as far as the room was concerned. But, he also had to keep in mind that this wasn't set to be age specific and included the readings of adults or even experienced duellists. He could count passing the fifth level as an achievement for now. And he had been quite close to six. Another month or so should see him past level six.

On the other side, the dummies had wands which would shoot multi-coloured lights from the ends. He had to dodge, deflect and counter increasingly higher levels of power, speed and skill. This was even more useful for actually learning proper duelling skills. Dodging a spell was always better than defending it. It gave you that split-second to counter the enemy when they were off-balance and also saved the magic power you would otherwise use to defend. He could practice chain-casting and the newest trick he had picked up in a library book- parrying.

Parrying was the ability to swat aside opposing spells instead of defending them. It was particularly handy in situations where you were unable to dodge. It was an advanced ability requiring good control of magical power and decent hand-eye co-ordination. Darius' meditation and channelling had boosted both of these skills to very high levels. In simple terms, parrying was focussing the magical power at the tip of the wand but not releasing it and then using the wand to redirect the spell. Higher skill and power will allow someone to even reflect the spell at the caster and deal with more powerful spells. Of course, unforgivables are still out of question but deflecting anything lesser is possible with sufficient practice.

And finally, he headed to the bookshelves to have a look through and it was glorious. It had so many rare books, some even out of print titles. He flipped through the first manual in the defensive section and pulled out a biggie. It was the Aegis, one of the most potent defensive manoeuvres ever created. It was a combination of transfiguration, charms, elemental casting, wandless magic and raw magical power that powers the spell. It uses battle transfiguration to transform the surroundings into various hard materials and charms to hold them aloft and encircle and protect the caster. The physical blocks are even effective against unforgivables. The entire structure can be wandlessly controlled to keep circling, assimilating debris and further expanding in size. It is a mighty feat of magic and even with his great reserves, if he were to attempt the spell, and somehow succeed in casting it, he wouldn't be hold it for more than a minute before overdrawing his reserves. He so wanted to learn this!!

His duelling skills now had an assured direction to move ahead in. The next thing was a great idea he had had while in the room.

According to historic knowledge, the creation of horcruxes for the first time was attributed to a vile wizard named Herpo the Foul. He had lived before the time of the Founders and I was quite sure that they would have come up with at least some counter-measures to the evil magic.

He stepped out and started walking across the wall thrice.

I need a place to destroy a horcrux. I need a place to destroy a horcrux. I need a place to destroy a horcrux.

And there it was, a door had appeared. He stepped and saw what appeared to be a ritual tunic array, likely for soul magic. Both ritualistic magic and soul or blood magics were outlawed in Magical Britain. True, both of them had great destructive potential but that doesn't justify completely outlawing them. As far as Darius knew, only goblins currently use them. They use blood magic for important contracts and for inheritance tests. Soul magic, or at least its knowledge is a compulsory requirement for curse-breakers of Gringotts.

The runic magic array had seven circles, a powerful magical number. There were runic scripts between every circle and a book on a marble pedestal just outside the circle.

It was a fairly short manual. The ritual required the horcrux to be paced in the circle and ritual incantations to be used while supplying power to the entire circle via the pedestal.

There were several addendums to the book and unfortunately, one of them was the inability to destroy a living horcrux without killing the host as well. So, Harry couldn't be saved this way. The book did say that Goblins were much more proficient in the soul magics and they should be consulted if any problems arose. Though they abhorred the concept of horcruxes and were liable to attack you if they even suspected you to be using this vile magic. Like all creatures of magic, they hated anything that went against the will of magic and horcruxes were right there at the top of the list.

It seems he'll have to visit Gringotts this summer to speak to the goblins. He had an idea regarding the Lestrange vaults as well.

Anyways, time to get rid of the diary. He had safely ensconced it in the spatial bag. No way was he going to leave it in the dorm where it might be stolen or misplaced. He placed the diary in the centre of the circle, a blank ream of parchment in the outer circle and took his place in front of the pedestal.

Powering up the ritual circle with magic, he felt a strong draw on his magic and quickly read out the first incantation.

"Invocant in animam warda" (invoke the soul ward)

"Libera animam ex objecto" (free the soul from the object)

"Quod anima imprimit" (imprint the soul on the object)

"Relegant animae" (banish the soul)

The circle flashed and a hazy shape in the form of Riddle was drawn out and then shattered into a million wisps of darkness. The ritual was a success. One horcrux down!!

He took up the diary and opened it up. The diary had lost the feel of magic and looked just like an ordinary diary. Though I'm sure someone well versed with the dark magics would be able to feel the trace of foul magic upon it.

Strictly speaking, the third line was not a requirement for destroying a horcrux but it did help in preserving arcane knowledge and served to keep a record of magic.

The ream of parchment had also magically transformed into something looking like a Grimoire. Considering the amount of magical knowledge it held, it was a fitting look. Too bad it only held knowledge up to the age Riddle created the horcrux, though even that would be considered a treasure by the entire wizarding population.

The book cover was matte black with a gold edges and a rune, I suspect symbolic of soul. He opened it up and it was blank except for a circle in the centre of the page. Conjuring a quill, he wrote, 'curses' and a list started appearing on the page on the right. A line extended from the first circle and another one appeared at the other end. He then wrote, 'poison' and the list shortened to about ten or so and a third circle appeared at the end of another the next line. Finally writing down 'lethal', he got two curses. The sanguis venenum and the serpens agonia were both strong curses and both candidates for the spell on the Gaunt ring that Riddle used as a Horcrux. He turned the page and saw the details about both written on the pages. Going by the symptoms of Dumbledore, the serpens agonia was a sure hit. At least he could study the counter-curse to it.

This would make a priceless gift for a partner, if he decided to have one; maybe it could even be Mione. He would have no regrets because he had an even better choice remaining. There was another horcrux waiting for him within this very room.

The last task for the night awaits. He stepped out once again and entered the room of lost things. House-elves had stored stuff here for centuries and the room showed it. Every time he entered this room, he was awed by the sheer number of objects secreted away in this room.

He headed straight towards the direction of the tiara. He had been here earlier several times, so he had obviously headed towards it due to sheer curiosity. But he didn't even try to hold it, let alone put it on. It was not like the diary, which used an indirect method. The hat would be able to directly interface with the mind; that was not something he was comfortable with at all. But now it was time to end the second horcrux of the night.

Since this was not a diary, he would need to place another ream of parchment in the outer circle for the imprinting to make a grimoire. Voldemort returned to Hogwarts nearly a decade after his schooling after having widely travelled and learnt many new magics. This second grimoire would no doubt have even more secrets than the first. He would make good use of it.

He performed the ritual in an identical manner and was soon left holding, a now gleaming tiara as well as an even more ornate grimoire with the same soul rune on top. He had decided to call them Soul Grimoires for now. He kept both the SGs into his spatial bag along with Ravenclaw's diadem. Someday, after Voldemort was dealt with, maybe he could donate it to the school's collection. It would be nice to have some of the Founder Artefacts at the school.

He spent the next couple of hours practising his duelling and alternating it with Cantatio when he had to rest. The intense magical draw during duelling and the drawn-out method of Cantatio had a nice synergistic effect and further sped up his magical training. After a gruelling couple of hours, he drifted off into his meditative channelling until the next morning.

C 30

It was nearing Christmas and Hermione had finished collecting the list of students interested in the DA. Darius had already run the name by her and she was all for it. The club room was one of the abandoned halls on the first floor of the castle which had been loaned to them for the purposes of the castle.

Hogwarts castle was a gigantic castle and very little of it was used at any given time. There were roughly 40 students; 10 from each house; 5 each of boys and girls per year on an average. Considering the total of seven years' worth of students and the teaching and support staff there were barely above 300 people in the castle, which left a lot of empty rooms and halls.

The classes were set to start on the first weekend after the Christmas vacation ended and school restarted. Darius was not going back this vacation. He would be utilizing the time to further improve his duelling skills in the RoR and learning more magic from the Soul Grimoire. He also had to go through the list of students who had applied to the club to select his students.

The club had snowballed from his initial expectations and there were quite a few of them. The canon Harry Potter wasn't clear regarding all the students, so he was only familiar with a few names and decided to take those in. It would be easier to teach students he had at least some information about. The list came to have the following names.

Gryffindors -

Hermione Granger

Harry Potter

Neville Longbottom

Ronald Weasley

Lavender Brown

Dean Thomas

Parvati Patil

Seamus Finnigan

Ginevra Weasley

Demelza Robins

Colin Creevey

Katie Bell

Cormac McLaggen

Alicia Spinnet

Angelina Johnson

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Lee Jordan

Ravenclaws -

Padma Patil

Su Li

Michael Corner

Terry Boot

Anthony Goldstein

Lisa Turpin

Mandy Brocklehurst

Luna Lovegood

Morag MacDougal

Cho Chang

Marietta Edgecombe

Hufflepuffs -

Susan Bones

Hannah Abbot

Ernest Macmillan

Justin Finch-Fletchley

Megan Jones

Wayne Hopkins

Cedric Diggory

Slytherins -

Daphne Greengrass

Tracy Davies

Blaise Zabini

Tristan Harper

The number of applicants was astounding. It came close to the number of students admitted every year. In fact, he had got a hold of the Weasley twins and Lee to act as assistant instructors as they were the senior most as well as good at duelling.

Darius was very happy with the turnout, though Slytherin was a bit under-represented. In fact he was grateful any of them showed up at all. The Greengrasses were always more of a neutral family rather than the evil ones and the Zabinis had much more presence in the nation of Italy than here in Britain.

The vacations went by fairly quickly. After completing the assignments for the holidays in the first couple of days, Darius had spent nearly all his time in the RoR. His duelling skills were improving rapidly now that he had some sort of pathway ahead of him.

He had already moved on to the seventh dummy target; the extra time had helped him defeat the sixth in a much shorter time than he had envisaged. He was also able to parry at least half the time and was rapidly improving.

The books available in the RoR had become superfluous now that he had Riddle's personal understanding of spells and their usage. He still referred to them to understand the underlying theory so that he may start practising them silently and thereafter endlessly.

He had been very lucky to embrace wandless magic at an early age. Once a witch or wizard embraces magic with a wand, they find it hard to give up that crutch. It would take several years to break the habit and build up a new foundation and even then it might have problems. Even Riddle at the same age as him was not close to as good at it as he already was. He somehow didn't feel like putting all his stock on a flimsy piece of wood that could be easily broken. After all magicians had magic already; the wands merely served to focus the power.

The Soul Grimoire was an absolute font of knowledge and he could finally start learning all the dark spells as well. He had kept the diary Grimoire aside and was using the Diadem Grimoire. The dark spells would be very useful if he ever had to fight Death Eaters and he di not balk at using them. Barely any spells were themselves equal to a dark spell; it was how they were used was what made spells dangerous.

The severing charm, diffindo, which is learnt in the 4th year, could be used to kill if used on strategic area like the neck or to the veins. Let's come down a year; 3rd year freezing charm, glacius, can be used to freeze the steps of the grand staircase and cause someone to plummet to their deaths.The 2nd year fire-making spell, incendio, could set someone on fire. The 1st year levitation charm, wingardium leviosa, had been used to great effect by him to clobber a troll unconscious.

Every spell is only as potent as the user makes it out to be. One of the few truly magics were horcruxes, magic that literally needed the cold-blooded murder of an untainted soul. The unforgivable curses were only paid so much attention due to them affecting the soul, a magic deemed evil due to its power and destructive tendencies.

The New Year rolled by and the students who had left for their homes started returning to the castle. Mione was almost bouncing on her feet in excitement over the first meeting of the club. The first week of classes went by quickly and he aced them as usual.

Charms went along swimmingly as he had already perfected performing the banishing charm, depulso, being able to do it even silently. He was not yet able to do it at full strength wandlessly.

He had found that as the level of spells increased it grew increasingly harder to perform wandless magic as proficiently as silent casting with the same amount of power. He could still do it but it required much greater amounts of time, time he couldn't afford to spare with all the things he was focussing on. Therefore, he decided to keep wandless magic for emergency situations and only practice it to perfection for a few spells.

The summoning spell, accio, in case he lost his wand. The unlocking and releasing spells, alohomora and relashio, for any time he was captured or bound. The disarming, stunning and shield spells, expelliarmus, stupefy and protego for rudimentary wandless magic.

Transfiguration dealt with the switching spell, permuto. It was not a difficult spell, per se, but it required excellent focus and magical control. He was long done with this as well. He was so far ahead in most subjects that it wasn't even funny. He had the added advantage of living in a well-warded home, that gave him the ability to practice magic without alerting the ministry even during his summer break, which gave him another advantage.

According to his mother, he was nearing the level where he should start seeking to apprentice himself to a master to further his level. Though for him, his mother would be filling in the role. She was a long-time Master Potioneer and though she hadn't broken into the ranks of a Sorcerer, she was still an amazing teacher and put him way ahead of his peers. He was ever so grateful to have made the fortis memoriae spell, as it allowed him to remember the many potion ingredients, recipes, processes and inter-relationships. Occlumency did give him a near perfect recall but this spell literally imprinted the knowledge in his head.

Saturday, the day of their first club meeting came quickly and he made his way to the practice hall early to set it up. The hall was easily big enough for the near 40 students, or 20 pairs to practice, he just had to touch it up a bit. He and Dobby had headed to the RoR that morning and collected all the stuff he may require for duelling. Things created by the room, like the training dummies he used, couldn't be taken outside the room as they were sustained by the magic of the room itself. But all the stuff stored away over the centuries in the room of lost things were fair game.

They got themselves more than enough training targets, dummies, training mats and the like to have a good training session.

The students started trickling in 10 minutes before the start of the club meet and soon rapidly filled up. He could see the surprised looks at the well prepped hall and felt inordinately pleased.

The twins, Lee and he stood facing the rest of the students. He stepped forward and began speaking.

"Welcome, to each and every one who has joined our new club. As you all know, we will be learning DADA and duelling in this club. The five of us, whom you standing in front of you will be teaching you in groups and working together. So, without any further ado, let's start grouping up."

I took Mione, Harry, Neville, Ginny, Luna, Cho, Susan, Hannah, Daphne and Tracy in my group. We headed to one of the corners of the room and stood together. All the groups would take up one corner and train together. We had decided to occasionally pit people from different corners together to get them to train against new opponents and increase experience.

"Well, most of you may be knowing me but for the benefit of the others, my name is Darius Icarus, a 4th year. I was there for the original duelling club managed by Professors McGonagall and Flitwick and am proud to say, among the best in my year. I have since practised extensively to improve my duelling skills further. I am extremely well read as far as DADA goes but we will only be learning the practical portion of the subject here. Any questions? Feel free to ask if you do."

Daphne spoke up, "What exactly will we be learning? To be frank, I already have some training and only came as you seem to have a good reputation as far as your skills go, even amongst some seniors."

"I don't believe that everybody needs to follow the same pace. Everyone will be taught according to their own skills and preferences. A person who took an entire hour to learn the basics of disarming may take only 5 minutes to grasp a shield spell.

I am proficient in a wide array of spells but to list out some of the ones I'll be teaching – the disarming charm, stunning spell, impediment jinx, knockback jinx, the full body-bind curse, reductor curse, levicorpus jinx, summoning and banishing charms, blasting charm, blasting curse, disillusionment, Patronus charm and many more. I will also expect you to know all the minor hexes and cantrips like the tripping jinx, leg-locker curse, stinging hex and many more. They may not seem much at first glance but they can really help someone out in a duel in sticky situations.

I will teach new spells as you master the previous one to my standards.

As far as duelling is concerned, I am proficient in the more aggressive stances, chain-casting, deflecting or parrying and have a much higher than average level of aim and power."

The entire collective of students went silent after that. I think this is the first time I have publicly exposed so much of my capabilities and they are rather stunned by it. Of course, I didn't even make a mention of the higher-level spells and the several dark spells I know.

I started speaking again, "We have 10 students, so each of you will pair up. I will switch with a person in every pair every few minutes to keep you on your toes with a new partner and to judge your general level."

They began with the disarming spell, expelliarmus. Always a good go to spell. A magician is completely dependant on their magic and unless capable of wandless magic, is completely helpless without a wand.

After about 15 minutes of practice, "Alright, I am very pleased with your level of proficiency in this spell. You have done good work and we can move on to the next spell. We will now begin with the impediment jinx, impedimenta. It will slow down your enemies and give you more time to counter or escape."

This spell was raking slightly longer and the first people to become proficient enough took about 30 minutes. They were Mione, Daphne and Neville.

A bit of encouragement to Neville went a long way. Being constantly put down and having a sub-par wand led to his talent being stifled in the canon timeline. Born of two powerful aurors, he had power to spare and did extremely well with enough focus.

"So Daphne, you weren't kidding when you said you had training. You are picking this up at an astounding pace. You are doing very well too, Mione. Neville and you to girls can start practising a particularly tricky spell while the rest of the class catches up to you. It is called the Patronus charm and is the only spell capable of warding off the Azkaban guards, dementors."

Mione spoke up, "I read about that spell in one of the DADA books I read before coming to the club. It is said to be an extremely tricky spell but displays a silvery barrier when done right and a full corporeal patronus when performed perfectly."

"As usual, you are right, Mione. And I can do a fully corporeal patronus already. Mine takes the form of an ocelot, a breed of wild cats."

We started with the patronus training while the others worked on their impediment jinx. He told them about his own learning process and some tips but by the end of the meeting, they were barely able to send out some silver wisps.

I told them, "That is considerable progress for a period of less than an hour. I will tell you another tip. A mistake many people make, leading them to not being able to cast a patronus or atmost an incomplete one, is an misunderstanding of the memory required. Common knowledge says that it requires a happy memory but my own practice with the spell shows that thought of love are much more effective. A memory of my house winning a house cup wouldn't even come close to a memory of hugging my mother after successfully completing all the potions in my 7th year syllabus under her guidance."

They all pondered on that for a good while and I took the time to once again walk amongst the students to help them wherever I could.

The rest of the class were at different levels of skill with the impediment jinx but each and everyone of them were at least able to perform it.


	8. 3140

c 31

Darius parried the spell back at him and he threw up a hasty shield with _protego_ to barely stop the deflected stunner. Darius sent a stunner and a disarmer in quick succession. The shield held barely held against the second stunner but collapsed at the disarmer and the boy scrambled out of the way to dodge it. He sent back a binding hex, _incarcerous_, followed by a knockback jinx, _flippendo_. Darius burned the conjured ropes with an _incendio_ and nimbly stepped out of the way of the knockback before sending a blasting curse, _confringo_ at the floor to knock the boy off-balance and then fired of on overpowered disarmer that cause the boy's wand to leap into his hands and the boy to blow backwards a few metres.

As Darius helped him up, he said, "Well done, Neville! You have got the hang of maintaining the battle-tempo. You are doing great. Now the next thing you need to learn is to disrupt the opponent while still maintaining your rhythm. You can use cantrips and charms like tripping hexes; wobbly-legs jinx;_ Locomotor Wibbly_; Knockback jinx, _Flippendo_and many others. Practice with Susan while I go check on the others."

It had been three months since Darius started the club and it was coming along amazingly well. All the people had quickly picked up advanced spells and were getting better at duelling by the week. Some of the spells were even 2-3 years ahead of their coursework! But they stuck through it and he was proud to see the progress they had made.

Mione may not be the fastest around but she had the knack of picking the best spell in every situation and always cast the spells perfectly. Once she had grasped a spell properly, she could fire it off perfectly every time. It was only a matter of expanding her arsenal of spells further to make her an even more formidable duellist.

Harry was a natural at DADA. He just had to be taught some duelling techniques and he was already among the best. I had started teaching him some limited battlefield transfiguration, as he had skill in the area. He could cast some of the most overpowered spells amongst the students.

Neville had grown by leaps and bounds. All he had needed was some adequate support and some friends to help him along and voila. He stuck to charms more than transfiguration but he was damn good at it. He had even asked me about some of the Dark arts, not to use them, per se, but so that he knew what to look out for and to be able to defend against them.

Ginny was also a prodigy as far as offensive spells were concerned but despite that she put in more effort than most others. She must be still reeling from the after-effects of the possession and had a desire to be able to defend herself better. She was literally still a first-year but was already competent with a lot of 4th year spells. It was amazing!

Luna was beyond amazing at spell-chains. She could put together any sequence of spells smoothly and even I studied and practised a few of her spell-chains. She could design them to subdue- capture or even lethal force, all with a smile on her face. Her reputation had spread somewhat in the Ravenclaw tower and there was no more bullying towards her. The members of the club stuck together and many of them came to her defence when they found out her situation. She was still a slightly weird person but her smile was more genuine and she interacted better with the other members and helped them design spell-chains that suited them.

Cho was a decent duellist. Above average, certainly, but barely better than couple of first-years while herself being a 3rd year. At least she learned enough to defend herself for a time if the situation calls for it.

Susan and Hannah were excellent friends and moved ahead at the same pace. Susan Bones was the niece of Madam Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE and she had had some prior training to defend herself. She fell in pace with the rest of the class soon enough though. Hannah was a speed caster. She didn't go for many elaborate spells, preferring speed over power. The two of them had also struck up a fast friendship with Neville and often practised together.

Daphne and Tracy were similarly good friends and very good at duelling. Tracy, like Luna, had excellent spell-chains which were quite tricky and unexpected. Daphne was the fastest caster in her year. She may not have raw power but she was a very quick and rather precise. She also knew quite a few spells in the grey area. She also taught him a few of them. Riddle may or may not have known them but it was helpful to actually learn spells from someone rather than learning them from a book and practising them.

Darius himself grew vastly better at duelling after practising in the RoR regularly and also learnt quite a few spells from the Soul Grimoire. He could cast fast enough for his hands to blur a bit and his power was halfway there to knocking down the seventh dummy. He had gotten a good grasp of parrying but the only people who were able to even begin doing it were Daphne, Hermione and Harry and even they only got it in one out of ten tries.

All this was still amazing progress and they would only get better. All the students had grown to be quite capable duellists. The students under the instruction of the Weasley twins as well as Lee also showed promise but weren't as good as his group. Obviously, as he had taken away the best of them already.

"Alright everyone, gather around! All the groups please! Now, I will begin by saying how proud I am of all of you for coming this far in a mere three months. All of you have performed beyond expectations and have the ability to hold you own, at least for a while. But do not let that go to your heads, there are loads of people better than you and you need to practice regularly to maintain your current levels. To cap it off, today will be your last class for the term as the exams are nearing and you will need to devote more time to our assignments and studies in the near future. So, we will have a recap of everything we have learnt and a lesson in the Patronus charm, so that you can utilize what spare time you have to learn the spell later."

I was rather adamant about as many students learning the spell as possible, especially considering dementors may arrive at the castle grounds next year. I had plans already for the coming summer break which would cause some changes in the future but it was better to be prepared.

"The Patronus is a kind of Anti-Dementor – a guardian which acts as a shield between you and the Dementor. It's also a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon – hope, happiness, the desire to survive – but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can't hurt it.

There are two types of Patronuses; corporeal, which means a Patronus with a particular shape and form and uncorporeal Patronus. Uncorporeal Patronuses have no particular shape and do not actively protect against dementors the way corporeal Patronuses do.

The ability to cast a corporeal or non-corporeal Patronus is down to the skill of the witch or wizard. Each Patronus is unique to the witch or wizard who conjures it, and it's possible, in some cases, for a Patronus to change.

To successfully cast the spell, one begins by mustering the happiest memory they can think of; the happier the memory, the better the charm will work. Alternatively, one could imagine a scenario that would make for a very happy memory. The next step is to begin drawing circles with their wand so as to increase the power of their spell. They must then say the incantation, Expecto Patronum; the Patronus will come from the tip of the wand and can be directed towards a target by pointing one's wand at said target."

After giving a demonstration of my own Patronus, Darius let the students try the spell on their own. A few of them managed a thin silver vapour but the majority could do nothing at all. The eye-catching exceptions were Harry, Mione, Luna and Neville. All of them had started practising the spell long ago and were able to cast Corporeal Patronuses today. Harry's was a stag, Mione got an otter, Luna a hare and Neville, who managed a corporeal for the first time, got a lion.

All the students stared in wide eyed wonder and redoubled their efforts. All four groups had gathered together today and were all trying to get the spell right. Darius had to literally force the students to rest after a few tries, as the spell was quite exhausting and could not possibly be performed several times in succession.

By the end of the class, no one else managed a Corporeal Patronus, and Daphne seemed mighty miffed at that. But more than three-quarters managed a non-corporeal and Darius was extremely pleased with that. All the students also promised to practice it when they had some free time so that they could get better at the spell.

All the students left after some heartfelt thanks towards the four instructors and the hall was locked for the term. They would host club meetings again the next year. In fact, there had been several requests from other students to join the club after it got out how good the classes were, but they rejected all the late comers and asked them to join them next year. Of course, they would have a tough time managing any more students but that wasn't their concern. Lockhart would be gone by the end of the term, so Professors McGonagall and Flitwick could take over again or maybe Professor Lupin could continue the club.

He hadn't spent the past few months just on duelling practice and club meetings. Due to the memory fortification spell, he was acing his classes and didn't need to really focus on the theory and was already good enough at the practical. He spent the time tinkering with a runic gadget he was trying to create. Muggle already had handheld recorders but magical society had nothing of the sort. He had broken down the arithmantic equations of the _sonorus_ and _quietus _spells to understand the spell weaves of sound-based spells and made major inroads after that.

He had managed to make the runic gadget just a week prior and it had passed all the tests he put it through. It was the size of a small match box. The recorder could be fed magic by any magician by placing their fingers on the underside and it would be stored in a small gemstone he had taken from the RoR. According to his research in the library, gemstones were the best magical conductors after magical substances like those used in wands. He had used a small topaz in it and found it more than adequate for his needs. Fashioning it after a muggle recorder, it had the record, play, pause and stop buttons but symbolised by their respective runes.

His plan was to get recordings of Parseltongue phrases from Harry and use it to enter the Chamber of Secrets as well as another target. Since it was finally done and tested, he got Harry to meet him in an abandoned classroom the next day.

"Thanks for coming over, Harry."

"No problem, Darius. What do you need?"

"Do you remember the duelling fiasco with Lockhart when we discovered your parseltongue talent. Though I told you to keep quite about it, I need your help with it today."

"Sure, Darius. I wouldn't have been able to keep it an secret if not for you anyway."

"Alright, I know you and Mione have been practising occlumency properly but the knowledge I have is something I would absolutely like to keep a secret, so can you help me out without too many questions. I promise what I'm doing will have no negative effects; in fact, it is a positive thing for the students of the castle."

"Alright, I'll trust you and help you out. What do you need me to do?"

Darius showed him the runic apparatus and said, "Since you were muggle-raised you should be familiar with the concept of recorders. What I have here is a magical equivalent of the same. I need you to say certain phrases or words, which I will record.

Since you are not practised at the skill, I will conjure a snake to help you get started and then you can help me record the needed phrases in parseltongue."

Darius took the paper with the required phrases written on it and handed it to Harry.

He cast the snake conjuring spell, _serpensortia_.

Harry started missing and spitting inparseltongue though Darius couldn't make head or tails of it.

~Hey little snake! You can just play around; I'll be saying some words, but no need to mind it, alright?~

~Open~

~Stairs~

~Close~

~Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four~

~Release; finish; complete; finite!~

"Alright, it's done. And just because you didn't tell me doesn't mean I don't get what's going on. You are going after the monster in the Chamber of Secrets, aren't you? And judging by the parseltongue and the fact that it's Slytherin's monster, it is some snake monster."

"Yes, Harry. It's true. There is a dangerous snake monster in the Chamber of Secrets. I know where the chamber is and am going there to finish it off. I believe I can do it and already have a plan to do so. And before you can even think of asking, you can't come along."

"Alright, Alright! I get it. But stay safe, okay."

"Thanks, Harry. I owe you one. And I'm so sorry for this. _Confundus_. _Somnulus_."

Darius was not very comfortable doing this to a friend but letting the secret of the Chamber out could have even more damaging results. The two-fold effect of the confounding and sleeping charms will make it so that the happenings of today morning seem but a hazy dream. Darius then took a disillusioned Harry and wandlessly tool him to the Gryffindor tower. He had to avoid jumping into a few people but got there in the end and placed Harry in his bed.

Harry should wake up sometime soon with some extremely vague memories of a hazy dream involving snakes and parseltongue and me but nothing concrete. Darius had briefly considered obliviating him but couldn't do that to a friend. He was not a professional, so there was some risk of additional memory loss and he didn't want to take a risk with Harry's memories at stake.

He left silently and went to his dorm. He looked gleefully at the recorder and grinned. It was time to enter the Chamber of Secrets.

c 32

The Hogsmeade weekend was occurring on the next weekend. Darius had already prepared everything else and he just needed to obtain the last part of his preparations.

He called out loud, "Dobby!"

The house-elf popped into being, looking delighted to be called. "Dobby has come, master Darius. What can Dobby be doing for you?"

"Dobby, can you elf-apparate the sorting hat to me if I need it? I need you to do it silently without Dumbledore noticing. I can conjure a replacement or transfigure something else into a near perfect copy of it for you to replace it."

"Dobby can do that. But if the headmaster is there, I will be caught."

"Don't worry about that. I'm not going to ask you to risk yourself. Over the duration of the next week, whenever you find that the Headmaster has left for a length of time, please go and switch the hat with the replica."

Darius transfigured a woolly cap he had into a good replica of the sorting hat and Dobby even added a strong glamour over that with his own brand of house-elf magic. Dobby then took away the hat, to be used to replace the real sorting hat when needed.

The next three days passed by without incident. He spent most of his classes going over his spell-chains mentally and trying to further perfect them. The teachers didn't bother him too much as they knew the level he was at. He always turned in impeccable assignments, got the top marks in the class and his success with the duelling and DADA club spoke for itself as far as practicals went. The pace of studies had been increasing steadily this year, what with the OWLs coming up next year but it was still not a huge concern for him.

It was at night on the fourth day, that Dobby popped, "Dobby has completed the task, master. I have gotten the hat. Headmaster has left for some business for the next few days and I went in sneaky and got the hat."

"Well done Dobby! I will require the hat about 3 days from now, so keep with yourself for now. I will call for you when I need it."

"Ok master, Dobby will do as you said. Dobby be leaving now?"

"Wait a second Dobby. I want to ask something. House-elves are only released if they are given clothes, right?"

Dobby got a horrified face at that. "Master is not wanting Dobby? He wants to free Dobby?"

The poor elf looked ready to cry and I quickly reassured him, "Not at all, Dobby. You are the greatest elf I could ask for, why would I want to send you away. In fact, the question was for the sake of not releasing you accidentally."

He seemed to calm down at that. "Yes master. House elves get released if they are given clothes by the master it serves."

"So, if I give you some plain cloth and ask you to make some for yourself, that wouldn't be a problem, right? Seem the thing is, I hate having to see you wear that filthy pillow case. You have served me loyally and carried out my orders perfectly. So, as a reward, I wanted you to have some clothes without having to free you."

Dobby's eyes kept widening as I said my piece and by the end he had jumped to grab me by the knees and was openly sobbing. "Dobby is also very grateful to serve master Darius. And master is right, you can give house-elf cloth without freeing them. Dobby can make own clothes with magic. Does master have any instructions about the clothes?"

"Just make it in the form of a white shirt with black trousers and a black sleeveless vest on top. The vest can have my Icarus house-crest, a pair of crossed wand and hammers in gold on the left chest. You can make your own footwear if you want to."

Dobby just clicked and his raggedy pillowcase turned into the uniform I described. A gleaming white shirt, pitch black trousers and black socks on his feet. He was wearing a black vest with the crest monogrammed in golden thread on the left chest.

"Excellent work, Dobby. Now you look like the respectable elf of Darius Icarus. Also, I read up on elves a little and I know about your proclivity to overwork yourselves. Make sure you eat and sleep enough to keep in good health. I don't want my house-elf keeling over from exhaustion. This is an order."

"Thank you master Darius. Dobby will always serve you faithfully. And the other house-elves are going to be so jealous of the uniform."

And the cheeky little elf popped away. Now the only thing to do was to wait for the weekend.

The next three days seemed to pass in a brutally slow manner as Darius waited for the weekend. But it did finally arrive and Darius headed out immediately after breakfast. The road to Hogsmeade was empty enough except for the scant few who had headed out earlier than him. He quickly cast a glamour that made him appear completely different and transfigured his robes as well.

Heading out beyond the village, he came upon one of the farms that stood on its outskirts. The farm was more or less empty and he headed to the farmhouse that stood a little way along. He got there and gave a firm knock on the door. After a few seconds, the door swung open to reveal a midle-aged man with swarthy skin, dressed in comfortable woollens.

"Aye, and who may you be, laddie? I ain't seen you around these parts before."

"Greetings sir. You may call me Arcana Mutare. I asked around and know that you own a lot of the farmland around here and was wondering if you would be amenable to selling me a few roosters from your chicken coops. I will buy as many as you are willing to sell, up to a limit of 20 roosters."

"Are ye sure you want that many, lad? I got more than enough and am willing to sell to you but most people just wanna buy hens."

"Yes, I'm sure. Please sell them to me."

"Alright, whatever you say. Follow me, I'll lead you to the coops. You can take your pick. And it'll be 40 galleons for the lot."

He led Darius to the coops and let him just go ahead and choose the ones he wanted. He picked the twenty loudest ones he could find. He transfigured those into wooden figurines and placed them in his spatial bag, paid the money to the farm owner and started walking back to Hogwarts.

Darius could have just conjured some roosters or recorded the crowing of one but he didn't want to take chances when he was shortly going to face a basilisk, the legendary king of snakes, which had existed for more than 1000 years. It was a small effort to buy the roosters but the situation warranted the safety measures.

After getting back to the school, he immediately headed to the second floor. Making his way over to the Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, he disillusioned himself, so that no one noticed him sneaking around.

Entering the bathroom, he was glad that Myrtle was not there. He wasn't completely sure that disillusionment worked against ghosts. Heading to the sink, he pulled out the runic recorder and played the first part. It all hinged on this. The characteristic hiss of parseltongue rang out.

~Open~

The sink, in fact that whole section of the column, moved aside smoothly and sunk down, revealing the large pipe underneath exposed. It was wide enough for the basilisk and definitely wide enough for a person to slide into.

He saw the filthy pipe and felt like patting himself on the back for his forethought. He played the next part.

~Stairs~

And the pipe segmented itself to form stairs, something like an escalator but not moving. He was right; no way was Salazar Slytherin going to slide down a concrete tunnel like a juvenile kid or allow his heir to, for that matter.

Heading down the stairs, he used the next part of the recorder.

~Close~

No way did he want nosy people coming down the pipe behind him and causing further chaos. He reached the bottom after a good few minutes and lit up his wand with a silent _lumos_.

The way ahead was a damp and slimy tunnel with small bones all over the floor. It looked extremely eerie and unwelcoming. He headed forward after firming his resolve and reached midway through the tunnel when he noticed the huge shed skin of the basilisk and felt goosebumps all over his body. Despite knowing of its existence, he couldn't help but draw a sharp intake of breath at the sight of the sheer size of the shed skin, not to mention the actual snake's size.

He headed past it and reaching the end, turned around the bend to find himself facing a solid wall with two entwined snakes carved on it. He knew what he had to do.

~Open~

The serpent slithered aside and the wall smoothly slid into the walls, leaving him free to walk inside.

He stood at one end of a long, dimly lit chamber. He walked past scores of towering pillars with serpentine carvings on them and finally reached the tall statue of Slytherin at the end of the chamber.

It was time to call out the king of snakes. But before that, he had to set up preparations. He had already planned it all out but now it was time to put his plan to the test.

First, he snapped his fingers; a second later Dobby stood in front of him with the sorting hat in his hands.

"Thanks for getting the hat Dobby. Now, I want you to leave this chamber and not return until I call for you. It may not be safe despite my preparations."

Dobby popped away and I started untransfiguring the roosters with _reparifarge_. He immediately silenced each of them, so as to not let the basilisk know that it's mortal enemy were present there in good numbers.

The next step was not vital to his plans but would be of great advantage to Darius if he could wing it. He placed the sorting hat on his head and waited. Before long, the hat spoke up.

"Ah, I see! It is the first person in years who stepped into the halls of Hogwarts with equal aptitude for each house. Why do you wear me again?"

"I have a bold request for you, sorting hat. Through some means I've obtained information that the sword of Godric Gryffindor resides inside you. I wish to have it for my upcoming battle against a basilisk; a thousand year old basilisk!"

"Though I don't know how you came by this information, I am willing to admit that it is true. I can also see that you have willingly come down to this chamber to slay a powerful basilisk. Godric would be quite proud of you, I think. And so, you shall have his legacy. Fare thee well, Gryffindor champion!"

Yes! The hat deemed his opponent a worthy creature to fight against!

He put his hand inside the hat and effortlessly drew the gleaming silver sword of Godric Gryffindor. It was beautiful piece of goblin craftsmanship, with its keen blade, filigreed handle and ruby inlaid pommel.

He hefted the sword in his right hand and turned to call out the basilisk.

~Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four~

The statue, or rather, the face of the statue started sliding apart and he heard the slithering sound of the giant serpent as it made it way out of its chamber. He could feel the very ground vibrate with its movement.

He quickly headed behind the nearest pillar so as not to be in its line of sight and get killed accidentally. He waited till he felt the thud of the snake landing inside the chamber before releasing all silencing spells at once.

The cacophony that arose was horrendous. The sqwaking and crowing of a dozen roosters was like torture to the ears. The effect on the basilisk was near instantaneous. The snake started whipping its head from side to side in agony, as it thrashed against the ground and the statue behind it.

It took a while, nearly 5 minutes before it started quieting down and stopped thrashing around. Darius gave it another 10 minutes before finally stepping out from behind the pillar, and headed towards the basilisk.

The snake twitched a bit and he immediately looked downwards and held out the sword and wand; sword gripped firmly in his right and wand held ready to cast in his left. Finally, he again summed up his courage and stepped forward again.

Finally reaching the snake, he realized it was still alive. It was in some sort of catatonic state and he took the chance to leap on its head and pierce the sword all the way to its brain through its eye. The basilisk body gave one final shudder before finally passing away.

He had done it! Maybe not in a way that Gryffindor would have particularly liked, what with all the hiding behind the pillar, but results argued for themselves. He had just pit himself in single combat against one of the most dangerous creatures on land and got away with nary a wound.

"I claim the Sword of Godric Gryffindor, by right of bequeathment and by right of conquest."

There was an intense flash of light and when it faded, the sword was in an ornate scabbard with golden trim, clasped to an equally ornate baldric on his shoulder. He supposed he had succeeded in his endeavour.

The ceremony he had just completed was not a wizarding ceremony, in fact, it was not even a human ceremony. He had claimed rights by goblin law and by their law, he was the true owner of the sword for the rest of his life. He had began reading up more on goblins after the soul exorcism and found their culture to be quite different from wizards but absolutely fascinating nonetheless.

The very fact that they could remove horcruxes without even damaging the containers spoke volumes for their achievements in magic. It was quite surprising that Dumbledore never bothered to ask for their expertise. He must have been the same as the rest of the wizarding society, despite all his preaching of equality and what not, deep in his heart he still saw wizard kind as superior to the rest of the races.

The ceremony grants the worthy wielder of a weapon rights to it when he vanquishes a foe well beyond his normal means. Considering their warrior culture, it wasn't a difficult ceremony to understand.

To put it in simple terms: He killed the big snake with the sword in single combat, so the sword and the spoils from the snake go to him for his achievement!

c33

The foray into the Chamber of Secrets was a huge success. Not only did he manage to slay the basilisk, he also succeeded in a goblin warrior ritual and got legitimate possession of the Gryffindor's blade. The consequences of that one ritual would be quite far-reaching. By doing so, he could claim the title of warrior among goblin-kind and be treated with the respect accorded to such. He would also be able to ask audience of Warlord Ragnok, manager of Gringotts and leader of all Goblins within Magical Britain. That was essential if he wanted to ask of the goblin's help in regards to the horcrux in the Lestrange vault and to remove the one in Harry's scar.

That aside, the significant amounts he would earn off the basilisk's materials would be a veritable fortune. The goblins considered such exotic meat a delicacy and would take it off his hands for a suitably hefty price. He could request several goblin-crafted enchanted basilisk hide armours in return for the rest of the hide and the shed skin. He could give it to his mother for added protection and keep the rest for some other friends or maybe his better half in the future.

He willed the sword away and it disappeared off his back along with the scabbard and baldric, Like House signet rings, the sword could be willed away at leisure and called upon in times of need. Harry, having never completed the goblin ritual, could not do so with the blade in his timeline, as he was not the rightful owner by goblin laws.

He made his way out of the chamber and started heading back. The problem was regarding how he would be able to get the goblins into the castle to render the basilisk. He couldn't just bring them up to the castle without Dumbledore finding out, and then the old manipulator would start asking difficult questions and pay Darius far more attention than he would like.

One idea that held merit was a to create a portkey directly into the chambers. The Chamber was obviously outside the jurisdiction of the school wards, otherwise it would have been found out long ago by any of the headmasters over the years. They retained control, at least a preliminary level, over the wards and would have been able to find the chamber if it was within that area of influence.

Though he would first have to learn the spell to create them. He had never bothered before this and all he knew about it was that the incantation to create one was _portus_. Maybe the goblins would help him with that if he told them that there was a carcass worth more than a million galleons on the other side.

He finally reached the tunnel which led up to Myrtle's bathroom.

~Stairs~

Making his way up the stairs he reached a platform and played the recording.

~Open~

The sink above him slid aside and he came up the last few steps to climb out of the tunnel.

~Close~

He brushed aside the dust on his shoulders and grinned in delight at how the morning had gone before he looked up and froze.

Standing right there in casuals, looking at him with a determined yet quite stunned expression was Mione. She seemed somewhat frozen in shock herself. He understood how the situation must look to her and immediately fired off a _somnulus charm_ even before she could react. He caught her in his hands before she fell and sighed in consternation. Now what was he to do?

She was important to him and he just did not feel right obliviating her. Besides, not being a certified obliviator himself, there was no telling what damage he might cause. Finally, he decided to come clean to her, at least partially. Who else would he be able to trust, if he could not even trust Mione.

He disillusioned her and levitating her body upright, took her to the 7th floor to the room of requirement. He made sure to avoid the regular passages and take as many shortcuts as possible. No point in taking chances with bumping into someone. He had already messed up when he relaxed his vigilance and was noticed by Mione and he had no desire to screw up again.

After reaching the RoR, he set it to his standard duelling room configuration and set her down on a couch. He started practising against the automated dummy to pass the time. He had not completed his practice for the day and now would be a good time. He was at least halfway through the level seven in the power/distance levels on the other side of the room but only barely on level six for the automated ones. That meant he had considerable power and range, close to Auror levels, in fact. But his duelling skills were not there yet.

It was close to half-hour before he stopped, sweating all over from the workout and close to magical exhaustion, when he finally noticed that Mione was already up and sitting on the couch watching him. God knows how long she was up already? And it was very poor battlefield awareness on his part to not notice a person behind him while he was busy. She did blush and look away when he caught her staring at him.

Anyway, time to spill some secrets.

"Mione, I know you must have tons of questions and doubts for me and I will answer truthfully to the best of my ability, at least as far as I feel you should know. Now, cast."

"Huh!"

"Sorry, wizarding equivalent for shoot."

"Ah yes. Well, keep in mind I do trust you. More than almost anyone in the castle, in fact. But since I seem to be at your mercy anyway, I need to ask, were you the one who set the monster in the Chamber of Secrets loose on the students, Darius?"

"Well. I can't say I'm too surprised with that one. But no, Mione, I'm not the one who did that. In fact, I was just returning from slaying that very monster. It is a basilisk, by the way."

She couldn't help but give a gasp at that. He couldn't help but grin at the nonchalant way he had just let that slip out. She looked both horrified and impressed.

"A ba-basilisk? And you slew it? Are you out of your freakin' mind. You, a thirteen-year-old, went alone into the depths of the castle and fought a XXXXX rated creature alone? Do you have a death wish?"

She would have ranted on for quite a bit more, no doubt but I held up my hand to silnce her and spoke again.

"No, Mione. I am not out of my mind. It is a creature capable of killing with a look and I wasn't having it prowling around the castle if I could help it. The other victims survived due to sheer dumb luck. Each of them only gaze into it's eyes on a reflective surface or through something else and only got petrified instead."

"But why did it have to be you? I don't want to lose you. You could have spoken to any of the teachers about this."

"You wouldn't have lost me Mione. I was well prepared to face it. And talking to the teachers would have revealed quite a few secrets that I didn't want out in the open. Not the least of which is Harry's ability as a Parselmouth."

"But how did you know it was a basilisk? And how did you find the Chamber of Secrets and kill the basilisk?"

"There were several indications as to the identity of the monster. Harry being a parseltongue and the only one able to hear it was one. Slytherin's monster being a snake was a very likely assumption. Hagrid's roosters were all killed before Halloween. Spiders all over the castle have been fleeing from it. The condition of the victims was another indication. All this, along with a few more clues led to the conclusion that it was a basilisk. And to kill it, well, I used this."

Darius was just waiting for it. When he had just gotten the sword, he was overjoyed but soon realised that he wouldn't be able to show it to anyone else without awkward questions. Now that he had the chance to do so, he was eager to do so with a flourish. At the moment he ended his sentence, he willed the sword to appear and it did, scabbard, baldric and all. He drew it and showed it to her.

"You killed it with a sword? You killed a goddamn basilisk with a sword?"

"Not just any sword. Have a look at the inscription."

"Godr-, oh my god! This is the legendary sword of Gryffindor, said to be lost ages ago. Where did you get it?"

"The sword of Gryffindor was secreted away inside the sorting hat, waiting to be drawn by a true Gryffindor. Because I am a Gryffindor and was about to fight a 1000-year-old basilisk, thus showing my courage, I qualified to do so. The sword is now bound to me i.e., I can call the sword to me at any time."

"So, you basically own the sword of Gryffindor now. Wow, this is just unbelievable. But wait, there is one thing I don't understand yet. Who was the heir of Slytherin then? There has to be a human factor involved somewhere and we need to catch the culprit."

"This is one of the questions I refuse to fully answer. I know you have occlumency shields up now and decent ones at that but this is not something you want to know right now. All I'll tell you is that the actual Heir of Slytherin created an object that would compel the one who held it to open the chamber and unleash the basilisk on the school. I know this particular enthralled student and she is not at fault at all. I have taken the enchanted object and destroyed it already.

Now that we are clear about my actions and their reasons, what on earth were you doing in that particular bathroom?"

She started blushing and looking away a bit but finally spoke up.

"I know that 3rd years and above, including you, had a Hogsmeade weekend today and I was rather bored studying in the library alone. I was going to head back to the common room when I noticed you coming into the castle looking rather happy and taking off at a brisk pace. I was rather curious, so I f-followed you and was stunned when you entered the girls' bathroom. I waited outside for a while, I wasn't sure what you were doing inside and didn't particularly want to know either. But I finally went in and saw it was empty. I was surprised and decided to wait there for a while. I was about to leave soon enough when I heard the sound of the sink and finally saw you coming out of the tunnel."

"Wow Mione, I didn't know you had these stalker tendencies." She blushed mightily at that. "Don't worry, I was just teasing. I feel flattered you were so concerned."

She quickly tried to head off the conversation. "Anyways, what is this room? It is amazing. I checked out some of the title on the books and they are all rare and expensive books on duelling and spells. The range targets and the automated dummy also seem specialised for duelling. Is this some secret room in Hogwarts for duellists to train?"

"No Mione, it's not. This is the Room of Requirement. It is located on the seventh floor of the castle, opposite to the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy. To 'open it' you must walk past the area of the door three times, thinking of what you need. For example: Say you need a place to study. The door will pop-up on your 3rd pass and you will find an ideal room to study waiting for you. It is an amazing room and I would appreciate it if you kept it a secret. You, Harry, the twins and Lee were the only ones I was planning to tell about the RoR anyway, this just moved up the schedule a bit. The term is nearing its end, so we'll tell them next year. And I don't mind at all if you joined me here to practice duelling or some extra studies."

"Thanks for trusting me Darius. I won't tell anyone without speaking to you first. And yes, I'd love to practice with you here. Anyway, now that the air is all cleaned up, lets head back now. People may start searching for the two of us if we stay here too long."

We headed back for the evening feast after that. Some people were a bit surprised to see us together but no one commented on it. Hermione seemed a bit oblivious to the attention they were gathering and Darius was glad for that. He had started to fall for the clever brunette and didn't need the extra attention and gawking to turn her away.

In a weird sort of way, they were a good couple to be together. Both of them were much cleverer than their peers, him because of his mental maturity and her due to her natural gifts. They bonded well over studying and learning magic. Even their ages were the same. He was only 13 years old despite being a 4th year as he had skipped a year and she was born in the latter half of September, making her a year older than most of her classmates and thus putting her at the same age as him.

Time passed normally after that for the next month. He and Mione got along very well now, even better than before. He taught her the _fortis_ _memoriae_ spell and she looked ready to kiss him after that. She was speed reading through at least one book a day now. They also practised regularly in the RoR and she was at level 4 in the range department and level 3 for duelling. She was trying hard to improve though and it was already showing.

The exams rolled by and he aced them as usual. The results won't be out for another week but he was already sure of his results. His own personal studies had also progressed greatly. He had finished NEWT level studies in every subject besides History of magic and that left him very happy. Of course, by the standards in practice up to about 50 years old, he had completed just the OWLs level of the syllabus. He was still ahead even then though and proud of it.

Hogwarts had done away with so many electives over the year – Dark arts, warding, rituals, healing, alchemy, mind arts, magical theory and so many others. Students could only learn them by taking up the appropriate apprenticeships with suitable teachers. Well, he could get a room full of books on the subject and Mione and him would make good use of that.

They had tried some experiments on the abilities of the RoR. All the books which had passed the threshold of Hogwarts could be found inside the room, including quite a lot of restricted books. That is why they could read up on all those electives. But only books of which a physical opy reside in the RoR could be taken out of the room. For example, many students had left books in the room of hidden things over centuries and house-elves used the room to store so many discarded objects, so they were bound to find quite a few books that could be taken out. He even found a detailed book on the creation of horcruxes, didn't let Mione see that one though.

Term ended a week later and he got 10 O's, as expected. Defence against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology, Arithmancy, Study of Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy and History of Magic; he had aced them all. He had been rather disgusted when he had to read those stupid fictions which Lockhart had set as textbooks but he had managed to bring himself to do it. Thankfully, the _fortis_ _memoriae_ meant he only had to go through them once.

He couldn't wait to see how Lockhart got booted out at the end of the year. The curse on the DADA office was still there and there was no way he would stay past the year. Personally, he hoped Lockhart would get booted out in the most embarrassing way.

But Darius took matters into his own hands when it came to the second last day at school. He knew Lockhart would get the boot sometime soon but he was not forgiving enough to let the fraud get off scot-free. So, he decided to use Lockhart's own skill against him. Darius went to his often and shot off a _confundus charm_ as soon as he saw him. Then he made Lockhart think it was a great idea to write a tell-all about his own exploits. How he had tracked down other impressive witches and wizards, how his most impressive spell was the memory charm, obliviate, how he had taken the stories as his own and made profits off those books. It was a relatively short book but it still took Lockhart the entire night to pen it down. Darius threw in the occasional _confundo_ when the previous one was wearing off and the book was finally complete the next morning. It was a reveal that would crumble Lockhart's entire reputation and reveal all his secrets for everyone to see. Darius then sent it off to the goblins with a contract signed by Lockhart which would give them all the profits from said book. He was sure the goblins would squeeze as much profit as they could out of this.

He then fired off a moderately powerful memory charm which should remove about two days' worth of memories from Lockhart's mind. This was going to be great.

The term finished and we headed down to the Hogsmeade to board the Hogwarts express. Harry, Mione, the twins and Lee sat with me in a compartment. Daphne and Tracy popped in sometime later and Neville just after them. It seemed someone sent of a message to the rest of them because soon almost the entire club had turned up. They were going to take up adjacent cabins but Darius decided to show off a little and cast a strong extension charm in their cabin. He connected four adjacent cabins and extended it making more than enough space for all the members to sit together. Everyone was looking forward to enjoying the ride together and we had a nice ride back to London.

But summer had just started and there was a lot to do this summer !

c 34

As usual, mum picked him up at the station and the two of them shared a tight hug. She let go off him to give him time to say his farewells and was rather startled to see an entire group of students seeing him off.

They slowly walked back to their rooms while he started telling her about his year at Hogwarts. She was extremely proud of him when he mentioned his duelling accomplishments. Though not as important now, in previous ages, duelling was an extremely important custom. Heads of Houses were not only responsible for taking care of their members and managing their wealth but also for protecting or avenging their families. Skilled duellists were highly regarded because of this. Of course, nowadays it has been relegated to a mere sport for most people and only the Law enforcement departments and the most ancient families give any importance to it.

They soon reached their home and Darius placed his trunk in his room. It was time to give his mother the yearly shock. He took out the Diadem of Ravenclaw and placed a glamour on it to make it appear to be an ordinary hat and then went back to the hall carrying it.

"Why are you carrying a witch's hat, Darius?" She started teasing him, "Don't tell me, you got a girlfriend and this is something to remember her by during this lengthy separation." And she started laughing after that.

"No, mum. This is something far more invaluable than an ordinary hat. It is under a glamour. Now take it and undo it."

Darius handed the hat over. He wanted to see the shock on her face when she realised what it was. She should be able to identify it easily because of the eaagle shape, blue gem and the famous phrase of Rowena Ravenclaw, 'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure'.

She took barely a couple of seconds before realising what it was and when she did, she couldn't help going weak in the knees. This was the lost Diadem of Ravenclaw, one of the most famous treasures in the wizarding world, a relic from the times of the Hogwarts founders.

Darius took the chance to summon the Sword of Gryffindor to him. The sword appeared, sheathed in its exquisite scabbard and attached to the baldric on his shoulders. His mom was so awe-struck at the Diadem that she didn't even notice the sudden appearance. He coughed his throat to get her to look at him. When she did, her eyes grew even larger, if that was even possible and she stared in wonder at the sword. It hadn't taken her any time to draw the connection and she had realised the true name of the sword.

"Wow, this is unbelievable! You have two of the four famous Founder treasures. How did you come by the diadem, Darius? What is hidden somewhere in Hogwarts itself?"

"I know, how awesome is that? But you have to keep this is a secret for now, mom. There will come a time, maybe in another few years when I will reveal their existence to the world at large. But until then, absolutely no one can know that I have them. By the way, I also happen to have an excellent idea as to the location of Hufflepuff's Cup and Slytherin's locket."

She gasped at that and stood still in shock for a few seconds after that before finally speaking. "What kind of goddamn luck do you have, Darius? People have searched for the founder's treasures for nearly a millennium and you now own two and have the location of the other two."

"You can consider it as me having a different source of information. But I need you to keep this a secret as well. I know you have strong occlumency shields from our mind magics practice but you stil be on the look-out and not get caught unawares. And keep the emergency portkey with you at all times."

"Of course, Darius. I never leave home without it. But now enough of the founders' treasures. I realise there is some secret involved here that you can't tell me yet. So, let's move on and discuss the rest of your year."

We had a long conversation after that and we spoke of whatever went on in our lives the last year. Mom had been contacted by the family and told that the initial battles had begun. The younger generation had not been involved yet and that was the only saving grace in the situation. Things were heating up and would come to a head soon.

It got late soon and mom began bustling to prepare for dinner. She was excellent at cooking using magic and it was a delight to see her in the kitchen. She was a bit like Molly Weasley in that regard. Darius had once asked her the secret to multi-tasking with magic so well.

His mom could have the potatoes being chopped on one side, soup being stirred on the other and the table setting up at the same time, all this performed non-verbally.

Every witch or wizard with even above average levels of magical power manage to cast a few non-verbal spells by the time their magic matures and they come of age. And the trick to multi-tasking so well was because she let magic itself assist her. According to mom, magic was a force of nature and we magicians could only try to guide it according to our wills. But magic itself wanted to be used and a skilled magician with a strong will could merely direct their magic to act on their will. It required practice and wasn't particularly useful in combat but extremely useful in daily life. There is no particular spell that lets you peel potatoes or stir soup but with some basic levitation and movement spells combined with magic could let you prepare an entire meal just standing in one place.

It didn't find much use in combat as it required a very relaxed mindset and that level of relaxation just wasn't possible in heated combat. And if more than one person tries to use the ambient magic then it boils down to a clash of their magical strength than actually using it against each other.

They had a hearty meal and settled in for the night. There was a lot to do this summer.

The next morning, he got up fairly early, at least by vacation standards. He had breakfast with his mom and headed out after applying a strong glamour anchored with a ward stone slung around his neck. While glamours were quite effective in hiding one's identity, they could be seen through by experienced magicians and didn't last for too long. A glamour anchored by a ward stone however, would last until the ward stone was removed from the vicinity and couldn't be seen through by anyone, even people with magical eyes like Mad-eye Moody.

The classes with the Flamels would start the next week, so he had to complete as many preparations as he could within this week itself.

The first stop for the day was Diagon Alley. He headed directly towards Gringotts and entered the golden doors of the bank. He headed towards one of the tellers who were not busy at the moment and waited in front of the desk.

A lot of wizards and witches looked down on goblins and treated them rudely. In Darius' opinion that was the act of fools. The goblins were responsible for safeguarding their money. Only a fool would insult them. Unfortunately, the wizarding world seemed to have its fair share of fools.

He waited patiently for a minute while the goblin finished reading the letter he had in his hand. Most magicals would have rudely interrupted but Darius knew better. The Goblin looked up after a minute and Darius could vaguely see that the goblin seemed somewhat pleased.

"Good day, master teller! May your coffers be ever filled with gold! My name is Darius Icarus and I hold a trust vault in my name within this bank. I am here for some private business and would like to speak to my account manager Goreclaw please!"

Short, and to the point. That's the way to speak to goblins. The wizarding way of going around in circles and slowly getting to the business at hand irks goblins to no end. On one hand their time is wasted and on the other it makes the goblins think the witch/wizard has something to hide and do not trust them. Darius started by greeting the goblin with respect, followed by a traditional goblin greeting. Then he cleared his identity and his business in the bank. That's it.

The goblin was shocked for a couple of seconds and then gave a grin, but what with all those pointed teeth, it came out as rather fearsome. "May you find your enemies vanquished and lying before you. You may head down the hallway to one of the private rooms at the end. Wait in private room four and goblin account manager Goreclaw will be with you shortly."

I nodded to the goblin at his greeting before walking down the hallway and entered a small but nicely furnished private meeting room labelled four on the door. Goblin account manager Goreclaw entered just a moment later and was looking curiously at me. Must be the teller who told him about Darius' respectful greeting. Almost no witch or wizard had done that in a long time.

"Greetings Account manager Goreclaw! May your gold be ever increasing!"

"Greetings human! May you wet your blade with the blood of your enemies."

"Manager Goreclaw, as you know, I hold a minor account in the form of a trust vault in your esteemed vault. I have since made it my duty to read up on the guardians of my gold. It wouldn't do to insult the very people who protect and safeguard my gold, would it?

However, I am a student of Hogwarts and recent events in the school have to be brought to the attention of goblins as well."

"I thank you for you due diligence wizard Icarus." Darius noticed he called him by name now. Apparently, he had gained some respect from the goblin for his words. "The school has recently played host to the monster hidden in the Chamber of Secrets, a secret place constructed by Salazar Slytherin in the depths of the castle. The monster happened to be a 6- foot basilisk, in existence since the time of Slytherin himself."

"By all the gold in Gringotts, do you speak the truth wizard Icarus?"

"Yes, I do, goblin Goreclaw. But before you head off to summon a war band, know that I have already slain said creature and claimed its remains by right of conquest."

"That would be most impressive wizard Icarus, if it were true! How would you prove your tale of slaying the basilisk to be true?"

Darius could see the goblin seemed to believe him. So, this could only be some sort of test.

"I am amenable to showing you my memories in a pensieve, if you could kindly have one brought out. I am, however, here to sell said carcass to the goblins. So, a contract with the goblins, in which I sell my rights to you would be agreeable as well and I could sign it with a blood quill to prove the validity of the contract."

"That will be enough, wizard Icarus. I will believe you. Now, I believe you spoke about selling the carcass?"

"Yes, I did. My deal is as follows. I will sell the entirety of the meat at a suitable price to the goblins, as you consider it a delicacy. I would like half the skin to be used to make armour for me and mine and give the other half to the goblins as payment. There is also a shed skin of the basilisk near the chamber and I will sell it to the goblins in its entirety. I require one half of the rendered ingredients; basilisk eye strings, basilisk venom, basilisk fangs, blood etc. The other half can be sold by the goblin nation with a forty percent cut going to the goblins. All the proceeds from this transaction are to be deposited in my vault along with the ingredients rendered. The armour can be placed in the vault when they are made, bar two, which need to be delivered to me. Do you accept these conditions as they are stated?"

"You have come well prepared wizard. It will be a pleasure doing business with you. On behalf of the goblin nation, I accept the conditions presented. The contract will be drawn up within the next quarter hour. Do you have any other business you would like to do in the meanwhile?"

"Of course! I came to Gringotts for three tasks today and this was only the first. The second is a courtesy I am extending to the goblin nation. It is not required to be done but I feel it would do well to let you know beforehand before you find out from other sources in the future."

Saying so, Darius called the Sword of Gryffindor and be appeared on his shoulders in its customary sheathed appearance. The sword would be uncomfortable due to his present height and stature but he felt it would appear at his waist once he was capable of carrying it that way. The goblins eyes had popped at the sudden appearance of the sword.

Thankfully, it was just a sword. Drawing a wand in goblin territory, like Gringotts, was tantamount to declaring ill intentions and would be very poorly looked at. Weapons on the other hand were placed all over the place, including the waiting room they were in.

"Goblin manager Goreclaw, this is the sword of Godric Gryffindor, and I claim it by right of conquest and bequeathment."

"Are you aware of what you claim, wizard Icarus? Your claim means you have anointed it with blood after a worthy conquest. A false claim such as this would see you beheaded before you step outside the walls of this bank."

"I fully understand the implications, goblin Goreclaw. I claimed it by proper rights after the slaying of a 1000-year-old basilisk with it. The summoning of the sword itself should be proof enough for you."

"Aye, that it is. But I am required to tell Warlord Ragnarok, Director of Gringotts and the ruler of all Goblins in Britannia about this, wizard Icarus. You will be called upon for an audience with him."

"I expected as such. And I eagerly await the meeting. My third order of business is of a delicate nature and it would be better to speak to the Director about it."

"Very well, please wait for a few minutes while I instruct the scribes to pen the contract and send a message to Director Ragnarok."

With that said, he swept out of the room while Darius leaned back and waited. It had all gone well till now. There was only the last agenda on the list left.

A while later a messenger goblin entered and said he was to guide him to the office of Director Ragnarok. He followed the goblin quietly and they finally stood before a door with a plaque on it stating 'Director Ragnarok'.

He knocked and stepped inside, finding a older goblin sitting behind a massive desk with piles of paperwork. Goreclaw stood by the table, waiting in silence.

"Ah, wizard Icarus! Welcome and may your gold never run out. I have heard the most intersting tale from account manager Goreclaw here and was most eager to meet you. But before we get talking, would you do me the favour of calling the sword of Gryffindor. It's not that I don't believe you bit I would like to have a look at the age-old sword myself."

The old goblin may have worded that as a request but it was clearly an order. Anyway, he didn't have anything to hide, he wasn't trying to trick someone. He called the sword again and it appeared on his back as usual.

"Greetings Director Ragnarok! May your enemies all lay dead at your feet. This is the sword of Godric Gryffindor. I have claimed it by right of Conquest and Bequethment."

"Yes, that does seem to be the case. As a sign of respect, we shall address you with the title of warrior henceforth. So, speak warrior Icarus, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about."

"I wish to speak to you about something which will be of deep concern to the goblins as well as me. Gringotts is currently playing host to an object enchanted with the darkest of magics."

"What are you speaking about, warrior Icarus?"

"A vault in Gringotts currently has a Horcrux within it."

c 35

"A vault in Gringotts currently has a Horcrux within it."

"Whaaat!?"

The director leapt up from his chair, sending it crashing back on the floor and Goreclaw had a feral snarl on his face. Both looked ready to rip somebody apart in sheer anger. This must have been an even bigger taboo for them than I had imagined.

"Explain yourself, warrior Icarus. How do you know of this vilest of magics. And what do you know about a Horcrux in our bank?"

"As you wish! When account manager spoke to you he must have mentioned the Chamber of Secrets wherein lay the basilisk. The Chamber was set to be only opened by a parseltongue. The last time the Chamber was opened was near 50 years ago, by Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort's true identity. He had also created an object that would allow a future student to unleash the basilisk upon the school. By chance, the object ended up with an acquaintance of mine. I managed to destroy the object but only upon further research discovered the true nature of the object. It was a horcrux made by TM Riddle when he was still a sixteen-year-old student. He had attempted to possess this acquaintance of mine but was prevented in time. During that time, I discovered the existence of other horcruxes sustaining his life. This is how he is still alive after the rebounded curse 13 years ago."

Darius had concocted this story already before he even stepped inside Gringotts. He just hoped the goblins would completely buy it without asking any more awkward questions.

The goblins had regained control of their tempers as he started speaking but almost lost their cool when they heard about their being multiple other horcruxes. Still, they waited till I had said my piece before Director Ragnarok spoke again.

"I thank you on behalf of the goblin nation for informing us of this travesty. We will destroy the horcrux as soon as we are able. May I ask if you know the vault in which it is stored?"

Director Ragnarok was much politer now and very generous in his bearing. Having a Horcrux in his bank must have really shaken him up.

"The Horcrux has been created using the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff as the container. It currently resides in the Lestrange vault. I ask that you please destroy the Horcrux without damaging the container and that the cup may be given to me."

Ragnarok immediately called in the messenger goblin, who was waiting just outside the door and quickly gave him a lot of instructions in gobbledegook, language of goblins. The messenger rushed off immediately after receiving his instructions.

"I have sent a goblin down to the Lestrange vault to confirm your information. If proven true, Gringotts will seize all assets placed in the Lestrange vaults for their transgressions and you will be given a finder's fee of fifty percent. The Cup is not of goblin creation and we are amenable to giving it to you for your role in this but we will deduct the payment for it from your share of the Lestrange fortune. The remainder will be deposited into your vault. Do you agree?"

This was even better than Darius had hoped. He would have to be a fool to turn down this offer.

"Yes, Director Ragnarok! I agree whole-heartedly. I ask for the Cup to be given to me after ritual cleansing of the soul taint and a request to see the process. The gold for your services may be drawn from my vault. I also wish to discuss the deal about the basilisk rendering and its contract after that."

Darius had no need to take it back to Horcrux and into the RoR for removing the soul fragment. The Grimoire made from the Diadem is the most informative other than the soul fragment in Harry. He doesn't need another grimoire after this. Thinking about the grimoires gave him another idea.

"Very well, I will have some senior goblin curse-breakers handle the Horcrux and cleanse it of the soul taint. Gringotts will charge the customary fees for such a service. As for the basilisk, a contract is being drawn up as we speak and will be soon brought here."

"Thank you, Director. I also have another task that I wish to do. I wonder if goblins are capable of blood-binding an object to me similar to how the sword is bound to me. If so, I wish to have a Grimoire bound to me in the same manner."

"Yes, we can do that. But it will cost you. If you wish, I can have a goblin brought in who can do it right now."

This was great news. Now, he could summon the grimoire whenever he wished. The spare grimoire would be hidden in the spatial bag till he needed it or wanted to give it to someone.

"That would be great, Director Ragnarok. Please do so."

Meanwhile, the messenger goblin rushed in and quickly spouted a whole lot of stuff in gobbledegook. From his enraged expression, it is obvious that he found the Horcrux. The director gave him some more instructions and sent him off again.

"Your information has proven accurate and our curse-breakers will deal with it now. Unfortunately, I cannot allow you to witness the ritual. It is not something meant to be seen by anyone other than goblins. I will, however, deliver you the Cup after it is cleansed. The goblin who will blood-bind the grimoire will be along shortly. Meanwhile, lets discuss the basilisk carcass."

"I have one question, director. If someone were to, say, use a living human as a horcrux, what would be the consequences and would you be able to remove the soul fragment without harming said person?"

"Living horcruxes are very volatile ones. Rarely will they ever be used and never on humans. But, in case it is ever done, it can be removed using the goblin rituals. In fact, it is easier than other horcruxes as the living being's own soul would assist in expelling the foreign soul fragment.

With all the revelations you have made, I am extremely unwilling to ask but I must, do you happen to know a living human horcrux?"

"I am sorry to say that I do. There is a person who is unwittingly party to such an atrocious ritual and I will endeavour to bring him to you as soon as possible. Maybe even the next month itself."

"See that you do, warrior Icarus! As soon as possible."

"Yes. Now about that carcass. I was thinking that the easiest way would be to make a portkey directly into the Chamber of Secrets. The chamber is not within the ward range of Hogwarts and this portkeying in is possible. If we make a two-way portkey between Gringotts and the chamber, then goblin renderers can enter the chamber, do their job and leave with none the wiser."

"Yes, that would be the ideal method. In fact, let's do it now! Iam one of the few people who can make a portkey directly into Gringotts walls. We goblins may not use wands but we have our own methods to substitute for it."

Then, the director held a long rope which shone with a blue light as he held it. It was a good idea, lots of goblins could be transported together if it was a long rope. He held it out to Darius and told him to clearly envision the destination before inserting magi into the rope. He did so and the rope glowed blue again. Meanwhile, a goblin had entered with a contract and placed it on the table in front of Ragnarok.

Ragnarok took the rope and passed it to the goblin and said something in gobbledegook before the other goblin took off. Presumably, to hand the rope over to the goblin renderers.

"Well, that's done with. Now, warrior Icarus, this is the contract for the basilisk rendering. Please read through it carefully and sign at the bottom if you agree."

Saying so, he handed Darius a pitch-black quill with a very sharp point.

"This, warrior Icarus, is a blood-quill. It is made using a form of blood magic, but fear not, it is not dangerous. But its use is only allowed within the walls of Gringotts and if you ever find it being used outside, it is completely illegal. A signature with the quill uses your own blood and magic to make it binding."

Darius read over the contract and everything was exactly as it should be. He signed it with a blood quill, feeling a momentary twinge of pain that soon passed.

"With that, you have entered into contract with the goblin nation. We will deposit the proceeds from the sale and rendering into your vault as soon as possible. The armours will be true goblin-crafted masterpieces and not like the shoddy work everywhere else. They will be fitted with all standard enchantments as well as a few more to further strengthen the armour. But this takes time, so the soonest you receive the armour will be about a month later."

Another goblin, dressed in robes entered and walked up to Ragnarok and spoke to him.

"Well, here is the blood-binder you requested. Please give him the grimoire and follow his instructions carefully."

The goblin held the grimoire and splayed his hands over it, muttering a low chant as he did so. Then, he passed Darius a short knife called a blood-blade and asked him to pierce his finger and let exactly seven drops fall on the grimoire. Darius did so and the moment the last drop of blood landed on the grimoire it shone with a blood-red light before it settled back to normal. Only difference was that the matte black book had some red finishing along with the earlier gold on it and the rune for blood embossed on the back of the grimoire, similar to the soul rune on the front. He called to the grimoire and just like the sword it appeared on his left arm, bound by chains to some kind of arm holster. He willed it away and it silently disappeared. This was awesome!

"Thank you! This is even better than I expected. You can draw the required gold for the service from my vault along with a ten percent bonus for a job well done."

"Your generosity is appreciated! Now, with that completed, I think our business here is done for today?"

"Yes, Director Ragnarok. Thank you for your help today. I will be back again the next time when I have further tasks. Goodbye for now!"

"Fare thee well, warrior Icarus!"

Darius left the bank after that and made his way out to Diagon Alley. It had been a very productive morning and he was famished. He popped into the Leaky Cauldron for a bit and had a hearty meal there. It was time for the next task of the day.

Darius headed to a small building at one end of Diagon Alley which had a plaque that read Solicitor Omnis. According to his research it was a magical law firm run mainly by half-bloods and muggleborns. The two other magical law firms mainly consisted of and dealt with purebloods. He had no desire to deal with those snooty fools and would be much more comfortable. Another important reason was Edward 'Ted' Tonks worked here and knowing about him from the books, knew he might be a pleasant one to work with.

He headed in and saw a receptionist at the front desk.

"Hello, how may I help you?"

"I wish to talk with Mr Edward Tonks about a business proposition. Could you arrange a meeting with him if he is free now?"

"He is in his office right now. I will enquire if he is taking visitors right now."

She headed up the flight of stairs and I had to wait barely a couple of minutes before she returned.

"You are in luck. He just completed his last task. You may go to his office. It is located on the first-floor, second door on the right. Have a good day!"

Darius headed up the stairs and entered Ted's office after a couple of sharp raps on the door. The door swung open and he saw a jovial looking man sitting on a chair.

"Hello Edward Tonks! My name, as of the moment, is Nova Arcanum. As you can possibly tell that is not my real name. I desire to work with you for the near future and I thought it best if I started out with honesty."

Darius removed the glamour stone and let Edward Tonks see who he really was.

"My real name is Darius Icarus and I would appreciate it if you kept that a secret. I am a friend of Harry's and am trying to help him. Please treat me as you would any other adult and get started with our conversation. After this, please refer to me as Nova Arcanum in all situations."

He put the runic glamour back on and the adult visage reappeared. He restarted the conversation.

"I have a business proposition for you."

"Good morning, Mr Arcanum. While I am glad that you choose to be honest about this, it still doesn't exactly make this very comfortable. Can you at least be a bit more forth coming with your request."

"Very well, I desire to step in as an assistant counsel-in-law for you in a particular case I give you. I want to be there in the court personally while the case is going on and this seems a good way to be right in the thick of things."

"Alright, I may accede to that, but I make no promises. What is this case you want me to handle?"

"A case against the ministry for the wrongful incarceration of a man in Azkaban for nigh on twelve years."

"My god, man! Are you telling me there has been an innocent man jailed in Azkaban for more than a decade?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I'm telling you. And moreover, he is the pureblood heir apparent to a Noble and Most Ancient House."

Darius found it difficult to stop himself from laughing at Ted Tonks expression. The man looked ready to faint at that particular bombshell. However, he managed to pull himself together and quickly pulled a parchment over to take notes.

"Moreover, said wrongfully convicted heir has been placed in that hellhole without even a trial, a courtesy offered to even those brought up on murder charges."

If Ted Tonks was shocked before, he was absolutely fuming now. He looked ready to go and rip the minister a new one right now.

With a carefully controlled voice, so that no one can realise how close he is to completely blowing his top, he asked, "And who is this unfortunate soul who is locked away in that hell hole."

"That would be Sirius Orion Black the third, Heir Apparent of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

c 36

"That would be Sirius Orion Black the third, Heir Apparent of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

Ted Tonks gaped at that. Whatever names he was hoping for, it sure as hell wasn't the name of the traitorous Sirius Black. For goodness sake the man was responsible for the death of two wonderful people, who were as close as relatives to Sirius, orphaning their child, killing another close friend and also twelve muggles. This man who had come in, Nova Arcanum, seemed fairly confident about his facts.

"Are you trying to tell me Sirius Black is innocent? And that he wasn't even given a trial to prove it?"

"Yes, that is exactly the point I am trying to drive home, Mr Tonks. Sirius Black was framed. The true traitor is Peter Pettigrew, the person who everyone thought was killed by Black."

"What do you mean by that? Even if, just for arguments' sake I believe Sirius Black to be innocent, Peter is dead, killed at the hands of Black in full view of several witnesses."

"According to the information I possess, James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew were unregistered animagi. And guess what!? Peter Pettigrew was a rat animagus. If my speculations are right, he escaped that day after accusing Sirius and blowing up the street on that day.

Have you ever seen a blasting hex being used, Mr Tonks? I assure you, the use of a blasting hex would never leave a neatly severed finger behind. There would be blood, organs and bones all over the place; not one measly finger. This was a ploy by Peter to escape under the radar and pin the blame on Black."

"Oh my God! Are you sure about all this? I mean, it all seems convincing and rational but if it's true, that means an innocent man was condemned to that hellhole for over a decade."

"Of course, it's true. I wouldn't have come to you otherwise. And if you remember the start of our conversation, I had stated that Sirius Black was never given a trial. It's going to reflect badly on the ministry when this comes out and Fudge won't like that. I will speak to the one person in the ministry who could help us get the case into the courtroom. You need to focus on every scrap of information you can find about what happened on that day."

"Alright, you can entrust that to me. Let me know when you have spoken to your ministry contact, so that I know when I'll have to appear in court."

"I will do that. Thank you for your time. You may forward the bills for your services to Gringotts. They will handle the payments for me."

"Your most welcome. It would be most gratifying to participate in such a high-profile case aside from the fact that we would be trying to set an innocent man free."

Darius left the shop and headed out. The next order of business would be to talk to Madam Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE (Department of Magical Law Enforcement), a truly fair woman and one who would be able to help bring this case to the light of day.

Darius sent off a letter to Susan Bones, requesting for a formal meeting with Madam Amelia Bones, in her capacity as the head of DMLE, at a place and time of her choosing. He supposed he would have better luck getting a meeting with her if he gave her the opportunity to decide the time and place.

The letter would take some time to reach and then he would need a letter back with the date and time of the meeting. So, it would not be possible to hold the meeting today at least.

The next one was an exploratory mission. Before the term ended, he came across one of the most ancient books he had ever seen in the RoR. It may even have been there since the founding of the school. It was an old book, still held together only due to the strong enchantments on it. The old English was nigh unreadable, but thank Merlin for translation spells.

The book exposed some rather startling secrets and he had been troubled since he read them. The book, titled _Magical Steps_, was a basic book about the process of learning Magic, as it was in those days.

To Darius' utter shock, he found that the magicians of today, at least the European ones are heavily shackled and restricted in their magical abilities. Repetitive Dark Lord uprisings, power hungry morons, paranoia, ignorance and later the MoM has obliterated crucial knowledge from our history and we are all the weaker for it.

The first was the classification of magics. What is known today as wandless magic and wand magic were known as natural magic and focus magic respectively. We are magical creatures ourselves, why would we need foci made with bits and pieces of other magical creatures to cast magic. The only purpose that serves is to teach us to focus our magic. In fact, it is more difficult to use magic through a wand than naturally, as we do not need to send the power through a different sort of magical signature to do so. The problem is, we grow so dependent on our foci i.e., our wands that we are not able to use magic properly without it and wandless or natural magic becomes a rarity, rather than the norm.

Darius had done some research by contacting some ICW outposts and as a matter of fact, only European and American magicians were as dependant on wands. Magicians from African, Middle East, Eastern Asia and other parts of the world were not nearly as reliant on foci. Who would want to be reliant on a thin piece of wood that may be broken anytime. In the middle ages, Russian mages actually had the tradition of breaking their own wands on their 14th birthday, as they were considered old enough to not rely on wands anymore. Wands were more of crutches than actual casting aides.

They also allowed monitoring of magic cast by the individuals. The Trace which tracked underage magic did so via wands. Each premade wand had the Trace, which would allow the ministry to pick up on underage magic. They also weakened the magicians natural magic as the pre-made wands are not perfectly attuned to the magicians. That is why the richer and more well-informed families preferred custom made wands, which would resonate better with them.

Ollivander's wand, the one he was so proud of, was holding Darius back. The wand was not exactly growing more powerful, he was slowly adjusting his own magic to it and releasing more of it. That would be detrimental in the long term and hold him back from achieving his full potential.

By this time Darius had reached Knockturn Alley. He still had his glamour rune on an he silently headed deeper into the dark lane. The place was just as crowded as Diagon Alley. They were witches and wizards bustling all over the place but also many dark creatures. He was pretty sure he had seen a dhamphir skulking in one of those lanes. He finally made it to his target, Magica Altum.

He stepped into the shop and blinked at the brightness. This was nothing like Ollivander's dinghy little shop. It was brightly lit and with all the glass cabinets looked more like a shop for jewellery than wands. Nonetheless, he stepped forward and rang the tiny bell on the counter.

A few moments later, an extremely lazy looking blonde man stepped in from the door in the back and approached the counter. His hair was dishevelled and he looked as if he had just woken up from a nap, which judging by his yawn, he had.

"What do you want? Ah sorry, stupid question, and I ask it every time. You here for a custom wand then? Look a bit older, to be honest. My name is Ater Caelum and I am the owner of this fine establishment."

"I am older than the usual clientele you must have. I only recently got to know the advantages of custom wands over ready-made ones and was looking forward to and upgrade from my current wand."

"Excellent! Someone who has been enlightened and taken the steps to rectify the situation. Alright, come over here to this first cabinet."

Darius stepped over to the first glass cabinet and looked in through the glass. There were at least twenty metal boxes there but they were covered and their contents could not be made out.

"Now, place your wand arm over the glass and slowly move your hand over all the boxes. They contain a variety of woods treated for being used in wands and you have to tell me the one which reacts to your magic the best."

Darius closed his eyes and ran his left hand over the boxes slowly as he extended his senses to the maximum. He had decided to learn to be as adept with his left hand as with the right last year. He would use his right free to wield his sword and the left to cast spells. It was on the eighth or ninth box that he finally felt a strong reaction and said so. Ater immediately wrote down something on a piece of parchment and took him to the next cabinet and asked him to do the same again. He had to do the same exercise a total of four times before he was done.

"Hmm. An interesting combination. I may not have a Sight like the Ollivander family but even I can tell the contradictory nature of your essence here.

Your wand's wood is Yew. It has been associated with death, rebirth, change and regeneration.

The handle is that of white pine. It is a symbol for peace, healing, warding and spirituality.

The core is a unicorn hair which represents purity, light, cleansing and healing.

The focus crystal below the handle is a cursed lapis lazuli. This particular gem shows vision, darkness and death.

You have a contradictory life and death essence and the wand should be ideal for you."

Darius liked this procedure way more than Ollivander's. He hadn't even held his wand and could somehow tell that it would be better suited to him.

"Thank you. I would like to commission this wand. When can I have it?"

"I will have it ready by tomorrow. The wand will cost 20 galleons and has to be paid upfront. For another five, I can knock off that pesky trace we are supposed to put."

"Here is 25 galleons and I will be back tomorrow for the wand."

That was time well spent. Darius looked forward to trying out his new wand.

He had decided to get the wand despite all the drawbacks in the book for one single reason. He wanted to reach the level of Novo. None of the greatest magicians, Merlin, Morgana Le Fay or the others used wands. They either used staffs of natural magic. This was because they went through magical Novo. The ritual could be done when one's magical core matured, usually near the age of seventeen. The wand of the ritual caster is places in the same tree the wand is made off, in my case, yew, and the ritual is started. If successful, the entire tree is condensed and magically reinforced into forming a staff around the initial wand. The staff is nigh indestructible and allows the owner to use very powerful magics.

There is no way Darius would let so much prospective power out of his grasp. Of course, he would have to use the wand for the next few years but no one said that he could not practise natural magic at the same time. If he was unsuccessful he could just revert to natural magic permanently after that. He was planning to do the customary world tour after his graduation anyways. He could see the sights around the world and maybe even pick up on some of the more exotic magics.

Darius returned to his apartment after that. It had been a long day and he had got through a lot of work. His mother just smiled and told him to have his dinner. She trusted him and let him do whatever he needed to and he loved her for that. He would have told her about natural magic and magical Novo but she was too set in her ways for that. That required magic practice since a young age and it was impossibly difficult for a focus magic user past their twenties to become even a moderately proficient natural magic user even if they use a couple of decades.

He ate dinner and returned to his room to practice his inner magic channelling. The reason he had come across Novo was because he was searching for information on his technique. It seemed to be unique to him and he couldn't reconcile with the fact that over centuries of magical history, absolutely no one had come across that technique. Granted, they didn't have the advantage of an adult in a child's body but still it was something worth looking into. He came across the Novo reference then and found his particular technique. It's true name was Vertentes, an auxiliary method to increase magical power; to give children higher chances to succeed in Novo.

He engaged in Vertentes for the entire night and got up bright and early in the morning. It was while he was having dinner with his mom that the owl flew in. It was a handsome tawny and was holding an official looking letter in its talons. He took the letter and slid across a strip of bacon to the owl before it flew off. He opened up the letter to have a look.

_Mr Darius Icarus_

_I am agreeable to a meeting at noon today in the leaky cauldron. I will have a private booth reserved for our conversation. I have heard only positive things about you from my niece and look forward to meeting you. But I have a lot on my plate and will be only able to give you a half-hour out of my schedule. Looking forward to meeting you._

_Sincerely,_

_Amelia Bones_

It was short and to the point. Darius preferred it that way. It was easy to schedule the morning. He could go to Ater Caelum for his new wand an hour earlier and then head to the Leaky Cauldron for the meeting. A half-hour was pretty short but he was sure she would stay for longer when she heard what he had to say.

It was going to be an interesting day!

c 37

Darius made his way over towards Knockturn Alley first today. The alley was just as crowded today and he made his way through the crowd steadily. Finally reaching Magical Altum, he stepped into the brightly-lit shop.

There was already a customer with Ater Caelum in front of the cash register. She took a thin, long package, likely a wand and left the shop.

Darius stepped up in front of the shopkeeper.

"Hi Caelum! Got my wand ready yet?"

"Of course, I did. I always keep my promises. Anyways, here you are. Yew and Unicorn hair. 12". Rigid and inflexible. Handle of white pine with a lapis lazuli focus jewel. It is a good all-rounder wand equally suitable for powerful or minute magics. No pesky trace on the beauty either. It is a fine piece of work."

Darius held the wand as Caelum handed it over and the feeling was instantaneous. This wand was HIS. And HIS ALONE. The connection was very strong and he understood just how much the other wand was holding him back.

"Thanks a lot, Caelum. This wand is just perfect for me. I am going to enjoy using it."

"Nothing to it, my man. You pay me, I deliver the goods. And I love making people the ideal wands for them. I am not like that old crackpot Ollivander, who sells his pre-made wands and sticks to less than a quarter of the choices I can offer."

"Yeah, I know. And I used to believe that crap about him being the best wandmaker in the country. And was so proud of that wand I had."

"Well, that is a rumour that I perpetuated, y'know? I get enough business on my own without any kind of flashy monikers and I didn't want the ministry breathing down my neck. So, I just made someone else's reputation better than mine and let the ministry go after them. Ollivander has to follow some of those ministry guidelines, compulsorily put the trace on every new wand, stick to only the prescribed cores and so on. Where is the spirit of wandlore? He might as well be a wand making golem at this point."

"Wow, that is some devious thinking. Anyway, thanks again for the great wand. But I need to leave now. See you later."

"Goodbye. Come back if you have any problems with the wand whatsoever."

"Yeah, I will."

Darius left the shop after that and whistled merrily as he headed back towards the Leaky Cauldron. The wand was so perfect for him. He could almost feel the wand humming with magic in his grasp. He couldn't wait to cast with this wand. He would also have to practice his Cantatio with it. He had been slacking off on that for some time now and that just won't do.

He finally reached the Leaky Cauldron and was pleased to see he was about 15 minutes early. He went in and met Tom at the bar.

"Good morning Tom. I have a meeting with Madam Amelia Bones at noon today. I believe she has reserved a private booth for it?"

"Oh, good morning, sir! Yes, she has. Right this way."

He led me across the room to the staircase and we went up a floor. It was a long passage with a multitude of rooms in it. We went to the third and he let me into the room. It was a comfortably furnished room with a large table in the centre with chairs all around it.

"Here you are, sir. This is one of our private rooms. The room has been spelled to prevent most sorts of eavesdropping or spying. I will send Madam Bones up here as soon as she arrives."

The room was certainly comfy. Darius took one of the chairs on the table and plonked down on it. This was one of the essential steps of the plan. He didn't want Sirius Black on the run. It would be even more difficult to start the trial if he is on the run.

The Weasleys won the Daily Prophet's Grand Draw and left for Egypt. He was not very sure when the photo of them comes on the Prophet but he should have the leeway of a few more days. Sirius only sees the paper when Fudge takes it to Azkaban and shows him the paper.

In the original timeline, Harry escapes from Privet Drive and spends 3 weeks in Diagon Alley. Sirius Black had escaped just before that and that means he had somewhere around a month's time in hand. He needed to disrupt events badly enough that Sirius never has to escape from Azkaban. It would get rather difficult if there is a kiss-on-sight out for the man. Thankfully, that does not happen immediately and is done near the end of the summer.

While he was deep in his musings, the door swung open and Tom led Amelia Bones into the room. He ushered her in and bowed out, not noticing Madam Bones going rigid at seeing me. Tom had barely closed the door when she had her wand out and pointing at me.

Truth be told, there was no way I could have reacted to that. My eyes could follow but my body was just a mite too slow to fully react. Guess being the Head of the DMLE needs to be backed by serious amount of skills.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Relax Madam Bones. I really am Darius Icarus. I am wearing a rune anchored glamour to hide my identity. I will remove it if you wish."

"Do so now. Slowly and without any sudden movements."

She really was the DMLE Head. Darius did as she had asked and slowly pulled the rune stone around his neck off and place it on the table. The glamour slowly wore of and his younger self became visible. She seemed to relax at that and took the seat opposite to mine.

"Sorry for that, but my job requires me to be careful at all times. There are too many people who would be happy to see me gone from the position. But I am curious regarding your need to hide so well."

"No harm, no foul. And I appreciate that you are so careful with your surroundings. I wouldn't want my friends' relatives being hurt due to carelessness. As for my disguise, it is because of a couple of reasons.

It is easier to roam Diagon Alley alone in the guise of an adult. It's not that my mom doesn't want to come but I like to roam around the place alone. The second is because of what I am about to tell you. I don't want there to be even an iota of evidence that I was the one who uncovered this massive ministry scandal."

"Alright, I can understand that. Let's start over. My name is Amelia Bones and I am the Head of the DMLE. My Susan has told me a lot about you and I really appreciate the trouble you have taken to teach the students how to defend themselves. I have tried to teach Susan a few times but it is difficult to take out time regularly to do so and she also made much more progress in a class filled with her peers. Anyways, enough about that. What is your purpose for inviting me to a meeting, that too in my official capacity?

"I have used my rune-glamour form to enlist the help of a lawyer in a case. I have asked said lawyer to bring about the trial of a man who has been unjustly incarcerated within the prison of Azkaban for the last twelve years without even the courtesy of a trial."

Madam Bones seemed to positively bristle at that. She went red in the face and was on the verge of screaming out before she controlled herself.

"And who, may I ask, is this poor soul? And how sure are you of your claim?"

"The person in question is Sirius Black, incarcerated for crimes he is innocent of and framed unjustly without even the decency of a trial."

She gasped at that. It seemed to hit her a lot harder than I thought. Darius could see the beginning of tears forming in her eyes, before she asked in a strained voice.

"Are you sure? Everyone believes him to be a murderer. What proof do you have that he is innocent?"

"Anyone competent investigator could tell that his arrest was nothing but a farce. The only part of Peter Pettigrew that was found was a severed finger. You are the head of the DMLE. Just give yourself a second to think about the consequences of a blasting hex at close range. There would have been pieces of Peter along with his blood and innards all over the place.

It is far more likely that Peter was the traitor who framed Black and escaped after severing his finger to throw Aurors off the trail. It didn't help that Sirius Black broke down right after that and started laughing. The Aurors just walked up to him and arrested him and he didn't even defend himself."

Madam Bones seemed to have calmed down after that explanation and seemed to be deep in thought. She took her time and I waited patiently for her to reach her own conclusions. She finally gave a deep sigh and after seemingly hardening her resolve she turned to me again.

"Alright, let's say I believe you just for a second. What is your play here? What are you hoping to gain out of this?"

"I won't be gaining anything out of this. I merely want a man punished unjustly to be set free and to help Harry to get his Godfather back in his life."

"Alright, I also have something I'd like to say. To be honest, I knew Sirius Black very well. I was a couple of years below the marauders while in school and on fairly good terms with them, especially Sirius. I couldn't believe it when Sirius was arrested for murdering James but with the rumours flying around and the environment at the time, I somehow convinced myself he was to blame for it and tried to hate his memory ever since. But your conclusions lead me to believe something else entirely. So, what I want you to do is make a copy of all your suspicions, doubts, theories, basically everything and send it to me. I' ll go over everything with a fine-toothed comb and get to the bottom of this.

Another ridiculous claim is that he never got a trial. I find that hard to believe but with everything else you told me, I believe I should at least check up on it. Luckily, I work at the ministry and getting access to the records section should be easy for me."

"Very well, Madam Bones. Please keep the investigations going and schedule the trial as soon as possible. It can't have done Sirius Black any good to spend that many years in Azkaban."

"Yes, I will. In fact, it is way past time for this meeting to end and I have to get going now. Take care and owl me as soon as you are done with your proof. Just as a point of curiosity, who is the lawyer you spoke to? Sirius will need a good lawyer to get out of this."

"I have engaged the services of Edward Tonks. He is a good counsel-at-law and I myself will be present as his assistant in my disguised form."

"That is most unorthodox but seeing as you are the principle force behind this, I guess it makes sense. Do your best to free Sirius, won't you?"

She looked rather emotional and I was curious why Sirius brought about such strong emotions from her.

"Of course, I will. As a final question before we part, can you tell me what relationship you had with Sirius? You are oddly emotional about him."

"I guess it couldn't hurt to tell you. We were in a relationship before. We were very close and he even set aside his womanizing ways for me. He proposed me in all seriousness but I didn't think it would work out between us. I was too focussed on my job and my ambitions and we parted ways. I loved him though, and it really hurt when those accusations came in and he was sent to Azkaban. But I'm not going to let him down again. If he is innocent, I'm going to move heaven and Earth to get him out of there."

"Thank you for sharing that with me. I'm sure you can rekindle your relationship when he comes out again. He will need a lot of help after being out of commission for twelve years and who better to lend him support at the time."

"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind. I really need to get going now. Goodbye."

"Goodbye. Thanks for the meeting."

She left after that. Darius had manged to reel in his surprise at the time but that revelation had shocked even him. There was never any mention of this in the books. Guess that goes to show that there is a lot hidden behind the surface that he didn't know. Of course, Sirius was on the run from the law during that time, so they never really got to talk. Hope it turns out different this time.

Darius left the Leaky Cauldron after that and headed home. He would need some time to throw in all the information he had on one parchment.

He sent off the letter to Madam Bones the very next day and she thanked him in a reply letter and assured him that she had got the gears rolling for Sirius' trial in front of the Wizengamot. It couldn't have been an easy task but she seemed absolutely determined to sort this mess out.

The week passed uneventfully and soon it was the start of the next week. The lessons with the Flamels were not to be this summer break as they had had to go to France this year. They were two of the most esteemed alumni of Beauxbatons Academy and had to put in the occasional appearance there. He didn't grudge them that. In fact, he was rather relieved as his summer seemed pretty packed at the moment. And it wasn't as if they couldn't teach him next year. Apprenticeships could easily last several years if both the master and apprentice were fine with it.

It was in the middle of the second week that the article came in though. The picture of all the Weasley's in Egypt and Scabbers along with him. Crap!

He had thought the breakout had happened just before Harry's flight from home but the Grand prize news about the Weasleys came out earlier than he had expected. The following train of events were simple, Fudge would let Sirius have the paper, Sirius would break out and all hell would break loose.

He had to do damage control and plan out his next steps as soon as possible.

c 38

The photo being published in the Daily Prophet this early was not something Darius had anticipated. Now, he needed to figure out his next steps quickly.

Sirius would escape from the prison and make his way to the mainland. Seeing that he had no idea of the prison's location or where Sirius might enter the mainland, there wasn't much he could do. But Sirius would likely visit Privet Drive so that he could at least have a look at Harry. After all, he was there in his animagus form when Harry took the Knight Bus in the original timeline.

So, the earliest chance Darius would get to catch hold of him would be when he shows up at Privet Drive. But even if he did manage to meet Sirius, getting the ex-convict to trust him would be a whole other ball game.

Maybe he should meet with Ted Tonks and speak to his wife Andromeda. She was Sirius' favourite cousin and might be able to calm him down and get him to trust her. She was also a qualified healer and would be able to patch up the worst of his condition. It would also give them the chance to tidy Sirius up a bit before he has to enter the courtroom. After all, it wouldn't do to enter the courtroom looking like a feral animal; first appearances do matter and were quite important to those stuffy old snoots in the Wizengamot.

The next couple of days passed quickly enough. He got letters from the twins about their holiday in Egypt and another from Mione who was currently in France. It had felt nice to receive letters and he quickly shot off letters to them in return. Darius told the twins to get him some souvenirs and Mione to check out the famous La Rue de Magie, the French equivalent of Diagon Alley, only it was supposed to be a lot better and more modern looking.

It was three days after the photo of the Weasleys on vacation was published that the breakout occurred. The paper was covered in articles, photos and stories, all about Sirius Black.

Darius had never really understood the sheer terror that the feat of breaking out of Azkaban inspired in the wizarding populace when he had initially read the books. But seeing the entire community riled up like that was a sobering experience. Having the breakout of the alleged mass murderer from a high security cell from one of the world's best prisons had stretched a lot of nerves thin and everyone was panicking.

Darius was pondering hard about how he could go about getting in touch with Black. It was not possible to keep a 24hrs lookout for him but it was also important to get a hold of him quickly before kiss-on-sight orders were sent out. In the original timeline, that didn't happen quite so early but this was a real world and anything could happen at any time.

He came up with dozens of convoluted plans before deciding to just go simple. He took a small scroll and scribbled something on it. Using the _Geminio_ charm, he made a dozen more copies of it. After casting a weak _notice-me-not_ charm and a _repello_ _muggletum_ or muggle repelling jinx on them, he kept them in his spatial bag. His plan was simple, he would give a short review of the situation on the parchment and then stick them with a weak sticking charm to various structures near Privet Drive. Whichever direction Sirius came from, he was sure to come across at least one of the messages.

After that was done, he decided to go to Diagon Alley. He needed to have a talk with Ted Tonks.

Walking up to Ted's office, he knocked and waited. A reply came just a second later.

"Come in! The doors open."

"Hi Ted! Got a few moments? I need to talk to you."

"Of course, have a seat. In fact, I was wondering when you would drop by. The prophet is certainly not being shy about their allegations and plastering Black's face all over its pages. So, do you have any ideas about how we should move forward now?"

"I already have plans to track Sirius Black down. If things go my way, I should be able to get a hold of him within a week or so. But after his escape, it is too risky to just bring him out into the open. So, I wanted to ask if you and your wife could have him at your place for a while. She was his cousin after all. And her healing skills will come in useful to patch over the worst of his condition before he gets his day at court."

"I can do that. Dromeda has mentioned Sirius to me before. She would be willing to treat Sirius, I think. I will owl you after I have spoken to her."

"Alright, thanks! Please reply soon and send me your address in the letter as well. I'll get Sirius to your place as soon as possible."

"That's fine. Is there anything else?"

"No thanks. That's all for now. See you."

"Goodbye."

Darius left after that and returned home. He sent a quick letter to Madam Bones to hurry the trial up before a kiss-on-sight order could be issued for Sirius Black. Her work would have been easier if she could have gone about it openly but that wasn't to be. There were too many people with a vested interest in the case. They had to be secretive about the case so that no one could interfere with it.

Fudge would want to avoid an embarrassment to the ministry so that his tenure doesn't get cut short. Lucius Malfoy wouldn't want Black to take his place as the Black Head of Family. That would dash any hope that Draco could take the seat when he came of age. Dumbledore had his own schemes about Harry and wouldn't want a new player on the field who could potentially influence Harry more than he could. It was a fight against many interests and the only way they could go ahead was in total secrecy. For now.

The very next day he made the journey to Prive Drive. He couldn't ask his mother to apparate him there as she had no clue where the place was and the Knight bus couldn't take him to a non-magical neighbourhood anyway.

He travelled the muggle way and found it quite relaxing. He was in the hospital or in his own bedroom his entire previous life but was at least familiar with everything muggle and didn't make quite the fool of himself that most magicians do in the muggle world.

Darius disillusioned himself right after he got down at the bus stop at the end of the neighbourhood and went all over the place sticking the letters to all the probable routes. The muggle-repelling jinx should keep most of them away and the notice-me-not would deal with the rest. He just hoped his plan worked the way he wanted it to. He had to keep reassuring himself that it was the best he could come up with at short notice and it would work as it should. Finally done with the job, he dusted his hands off and started the long journey back to his apartment.

He had to learn to apparate as soon as possible. And he would go to the only international level testing centre in the country. According to his studies, the apparation test at the MoM was just a façade. The real tests which were of much higher levels were conducted at the Isle of Man. The solitary island in the centre of the United Kingdom was home to the best instructors in the country. They taught apparation first then apparation across large distances, maybe a country or two. They also taught silent apparation, the skill of apparating and disapparating without the customary cracking sound and alerting everyone in the vicinity.

Such centres existed all over the world but were relatively few in number. He was lucky there was one in the UK. But the minimum age requirement was sixteen to get the license and he would have to wait until then.

That done, it was time for the waiting game. Madam Bones would work within the MoM. Ted Tonks was working on getting his legal case ready. Too bad he couldn't tell the man about Peter in advance, he would be able to build up a solid case then. But that knowledge would be too suspicious. Of course, to clear Black's name beyond doubt they would need the Veritaserum induced confession of the traitor. He had to get hold of Peter as soon as the Weasleys were back in the country, which should be in about another two weeks. Andromeda Tonks was working on her treatment plan for her cousin. After twelve years in that hell hole he would be in a terrible state and require a lot of treatment to restore any modicum of health back. She was stocking up on blood replenishing potions, dreamless sleeping draughts, pain reliever draughts, Calming Draughts, Nourishment draughts and whole load of others. He had been surprised to learn about a few of them; he might be at the level of an apprentice potioneer but he was barely there. There was time to go before he could even consider taking on a formal master, even if it was his own mother. Some of the potions Andromeda was dealing with was beyond that and was at advanced Healer levels.

He did think that they may be of great help to Harry. Some of those Nourishment Draughts and those for old wounds and injuries and a few others could help the poor guy get past his malnourished stunted growth and grow into his actual size. Well, at least he knew what to get him as his Christmas gift this year.

Sirius Black was tired. Swimming across the channel, even in his animagus form was tiring. But he pushed forward, he had to or he would have lost his mind by now. There was only one thought in his mind that was keeping him sane. Protect his pup. The traitor was there, near him, ready to strike him at a moment's notice. But he would not let that happen. No, he would protect the pup, he had failed his parents but he would not let Harry suffer the same fate.

He made his way across the woodlands. He lived in the woods and on the pavements, scrounging up some berries or some half-eaten food, but he pushed on, determined to get to Harry. He only slept for a couple of hours a day before moving on.

Finally, he was here. Privet Drive. He hadn't thought Harry would be here but that showed him. He was in his dog form. He had seen the muggle news a few days back. He had been branded a murderer, again. But he couldn't afford to get caught up with the muggle law enforcement now, not when he was so close. And he didn't even have his wand to defend himself. He kept up in his animagus form, it would slip by easier. In fact, it was easier to let go in that form. Easier and less complex, where he didn't have to think too much.

Sniff! Sniff! That was the scent of magic. Right near the entrance to the Drive. But how? He slowly walked closer to it and then saw the parchment. It was stick to the signpost which said Privet Drive. And it was addressed to him! Somebody knew he would be coming here. Somebody knew Harry's location. He sniffed harder but he could barely catch the scent of the one who had left the parchment here. That meant it was a few days old at least.

But he could look into that later. He took the letter in his paw and slunk away in the darkness. Heading to a copse of trees he had seen some way back, he transformed back into his human form and started reading.

_Padfoot,_

_I am a staunch believer of your innocence and am currently acting towards getting you your long overdue trial. I am also a friend of Harry's and only wish the best for him._

_I understand that in your current capacity as a run-away convict, you have no reason to believe me but if I may say so, you don't have much choice either. My only aim is to help you and Harry but as it so happens, there are numerous people, on both sides of the field who would seek to prevent this. Hence the lack of any names, just in case this gets into the wrong hands._

_If you believe me, if you have the slightest amount of trust or desire to listen to my plan, simply write or scratch out a 'yes' at the bottom of the parchment. We can meet the next day at noon, near the library at the end of the street. Stick around there in your 'other form' and I'll come up to you. We can have a long talk after that and I promise to be much more forthcoming._

_Traveller_

Sirius was stunned. Who the hell was this? The person, couldn't even tell if it was a male or female, knew so much. Of course, it was rather gratifying to have at least someone who believed in your innocence. But it wasn't just that. His nickname, mentioning his other form, all of which was supposed to be a secret.

He was curious about the situation but still somewhat hesitant. He finally decided to think about that later and started searching for Harry's home.

Just a moment later, he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eyes. And turned to see a young James walking across the pavement, wheeling a trunk behind him. It had to be Harry. He looked exactly the same as James, only he had Lily's eyes. Young Harry, as he was unequivocally sure it had to be him, was wheeling the suitcase with a sort of panicked expression and finally stopped at the junction between this street and the next.

The whole situation gave him a strong feeling of Déjà vu! It was almost exactly like this when he had wheeled away his trunk from the Black House when he was sixteen and moved in with the Potters. Harry must be running away as well.

He thought about it for a split second before bounding over to help the boy.

Harry seemed to have sensed him. He turned around but the shock of seeing his massive form must have thrown him off. The poor boy fell over and threw out his right hand as he fell. The three-decker, violently purple knight bus pulled up and obscured him from view.

Well, at least Harry had a means of transportation now. He slunk back into the shadows and left the area. But he had decided. He needed to be with Harry. He decided to take the offer and take his chances. He scratched a yes at the bottom of the parchment and sped off towards the library.

Several hundreds of miles away, Darius pulled out a piece of parchment, spelled with the _Protean Charm_ from his pocket, which had a scrawled 'yes' on it and grinned.

Sirius Black had received his message and agreed to meet him.

It was time to meet the infamous Black.

c 39

Darius headed off early the next morning. He didn't want to be late for his meeting. He reached the neighbourhood well before time and after putting on his rune-glamour and disillusioning himself, started walking towards the library.

Sirius had been waiting a while already. He had slept under the library awning and managed some food from the bakery down the street to tide over his hunger.

He had been hiding near the library with a clear view of the entrance. He wanted to see who was the mystery helper before showing himself to them. It wouldn't do to fall into a trap and get caught this late in the game. He was still thinking about his mystery helper when he caught the whiff of a new scent and realised there was somebody nearby. Before he could react though, there was a disembodied voice behind him.

"Enjoying your freedom, Sirius Black?"

He was so startled, he nearly turned and ran but finally managed to calm down with an effort. He realised it was someone with an invisibility cloak or under a strong disillusionment charm.

"I would prefer you not transform here. Any sighting of you would raise hell and we can't afford that kind of heat. So, what I'll do is to clean you up a bit, so you don't look like a rabid dog and we'll head to a safehouse. Bark twice if you agree."

Sirius thought about it and shrugged. He was wandless and at the mercy of an obviously strong wizard, he could only hope for the best. And if anything goes wrong, well, he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"Woof!Woof!"

"Tergeo! Tergeo! Tergeo! Scourgify! Scourgify! Aguamenti!"

"My god, you had a lot of muck on you! That should take care of it for now. Let's head on. We will be using muggle transport. I need you to act entirely normal and quietly follow me for now. We will head to the safehouse immediately."

The two of them quickly made their way and headed off towards the Tonks' house. They made their way by bus, followed by subway and then a taxi. It was quite difficult to hold in the laughter when Sirius behaved the same way as a regular dog by sticking his head out the window. Finally arriving at the Tonks house, they made their way towards the house and felt the subtle tingling that signified the strong wards around the property.

Sirius, in dog form, yelped when he saw Andromeda open the door and was about to turn tail when Darius petrified him. Thank Merlin for his new wand not having the trace. They made their way inside, Sirius being levitated by Darius and sat down in the sitting room.

"Sirius, calm down! This is Andromeda, your other cousin. Not Bellatrix, she is still in prison. Now, I'll release you, but you need to calm down."

He used the counter-curse and Sirius was freed of the body-bind curse. He did seem calm ad then transformed into his human form.

"Sorry Andi, but you know the family resemblance."

"That I do. Though after Bellatrix' years at Azkaban, I believe I can confidently claim to be the better-looking sister."

That got a few laughs from everyone present and everyone calmed down after that quip. Sirius was informed briefly of Harry's life and he had to be stopped physically from rushing off to wring the neck of the Dursleys. He was also quite displeased about Snape's post as potions professor and made his dislike of the situation amply clear.

But he calmed down significantly after talking about Harry. Hearing he was safe and alive. though not as hale and hearty as he might have hoped, must have been a great tonic for him. Andromeda began talking about remedying the condition Sirius was in and Darius mentioned his plan for Harry's Christmas gift and they both were all for it. In fact, Andromeda offered to stock up on all the potions that may be required and send them in shrinked form to me a few days before Christmas.

We also managed to get the true story of the fateful night of 31st October, 1981 from Sirius, Darius already knew it of course. Ted was taking notes of the entire story with a dicta-quill. He said he wanted to go over the whole thing so that there are no unforeseen questions or trip-ups that could ruin Sirius' chances of getting free after the trial.

Darius took his leave after that. Sirius was safe and would recover nicely on Andromeda's capable hands but he had a rat to catch. The Weasleys had been off for a month-long vacation and they had just returned a couple of days ago from Egypt. He had already written to the twins about having to visit them for a day and they had sent a letter in agreement. They probably though it was something to do with the Weasleys Wizard Wheezes or product planning.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully though his mother was a bit curious about his regular outings these days. He assuaged her by telling her that it would be all out in the open in a few days anyway.

The next day he took the floo to the Weasleys and saw the twins waiting right there. Percy was in the kitchen too, reading some book, sitting on the table. He took the twins aside and told them he had to speak to them in private. Hey took Darius to their room and he immediately charmed the room with everything he could think of to prevent eavesdropping.

The twins stared in open shock at the rampant show of magic and goggled at him.

"You used-"

"magic freely-"

"despite the restrictions-"

"of magic outside the school."

And then in unison.

"Teach us, oh great master."

The twins were always a laughter riot but it was not the time for that now.

"What I'm about to tell you is rather shocking and absolutely has to be kept a secret. On no account can it be leaked anytime soon. Do you swear to keep the secret? It concerns the very safety of your families."

They got dead serious at that. Whatever else you may say about the twins, when it came to family and friends, they were loyal to a fault.

"Anything that concerns the safety of our family is serious business. Say what you have to, we will not speak to anyone about it unless you give us leave to do so."

"The thing is, the rat that has been in your family for years, Scabbers, is actually a death eater in his animagus form. Your family has unwittingly played host to a death eater for nigh on 12 years now."

Both recoiled hard at that and looked horrified at that piece of information. They seemed to have instantaneously grasped the risk their family had been at and didn't have any clue about. The next instant both their expressions turned into identical expressions and they asked."

"Well, if you know that-"

"and still come here-"

"and told us about it-"

"then you must have a plan-"

"in place already."

""What can we do?""

"I don't need your help much. I am already in contact with people who can take care of the next steps. I just need to get a hold of the rat. You two need to head off any searches for him or put it off. This needs to be handled carefully. If you feel you can handle it, you can even take a common field rat and place it in Ron's cage to fool him temporarily."

""We'll do that. Let's go. We have a rat to catch.""

They all headed to Ron's room, who was snoring away to glory and noticed the fat rat snoozing on the bedside table. Darius got it with a silent stunner and quickly placed it in a conjured cage which he grounded with a permanence rune. The cage was then layered with everything that might be need de to keep the rat in. An imperturbable charm to keep Peter from transforming and anti-apparition jinxes to keep him from apparating.

Darius thanked the twins for co-operating and they in turn were grateful for getting rid of the Death Eater in their house. Neither of them had any suspicions about the rat's suspicious nature after back-counting the number of years it had lived. They promised to hold of all inquiries for later.

Darius left immediately via floo powder and headed to Madam Bones office, whom he had set an appointment with today. He had yet to tell her about his plans for catching Peter and didn't think she would give the go-ahead if she knew. Well, now he had Peter all nice and caged for her.

Emerald-green flames whooshed into existence in her fireplace and she held her wand at the ready for any unwelcome visitors. She had not got to her present position by being lax. Whatever else may be said about her, Madam Bones was uniquely suited to and excelled in the post as Head of DMLE.

The only visitor she was expecting today morning was the Icarus boy. She had to admit, that was a young man who would go places. The cunning, smarts, foresight and skills he displayed were amazing for his age. Adding to that his formidable reputation as a duellist among his peers and she was tempted to snap him up for the aurors.

The boy in question appeared in the flames, in his usual disguise as counsel-at-law, Nova Arcanum. He dusted of his clothes casually and turned to her. She was surprised to see him carrying a cuboidal object draped with a black cloth draped on it.

"Good morning, Madam Bones. I have two significant pieces of information for you. I know you may be incensed to learn about it only now but I can tell you, I only did it with the best intentions."

Uh-oh, she didn't like the way this was going. He must have done something rash on his own but at least he seems unharmed.

"Go on, what do you have to say?"

Oh, how she regretted those words a second later. He laid it to her straight and now she had a headache to deal with.

"The first is that I have tracked down Sirius Black and convinced him to take refuge in a safehouse for the time being. I can get him to the court on the day of the trial. He will of course be under a rune-glamour until the moment of the trial. The second is that I have the person responsible for the betrayal of the Potters, murder of 12 muggles and framing of Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew himself."

And Darius threw of the cover, showing the rat, still passed out cold. It was rather fun to see the usually serious woman's mouth drop and see her monocle fall right off her face and dangle at the end of its chain.

"He has been hiding in his rat animagus form for the last 12 years. I caught him just today morning. He has been masquerading as a common rat the entire time, ready to move back to his master's side the first chance he gets. I am sure you know the spells to verify this personaly."

She nodded to a slight nod, still stunned at this turn of events. Both the people critical to the trial had been found and gift-wrapped for her. She did check the rat though, and though there was no way to tell his identity for certain without forcing him to reveal his form, she could easily tell it was an animagus. That's it, she was definitely going to try to drag this kid to join thee auror forces when he graduates. With the traitor and Sirius both at hand, she could move u the trial to the day after tomorrow. She wanted this to be done with as soon as possible.

"I can definitely tell that's an animagus, though I will have to force him to reveal himself with a spell. Anyways, I believe you and I think I can arrange the trial to be arranged for the day after next. Let Ted Tonks know that, won't you? I am certain you guys are all over this but I need you two to be at your best when this trial comes around. I won't have my Sirius return to prison again."

"Laying claim on him already, huh? At least you are proactive."

She blushed at that and looked away for a second before turning to face me again.

"I already turned away from him once and then lost him to those soul-suckers for 12 years. I'm not going to let him get away again."

"Anyways, feel free to take away the rat and test him. He shouldn't be able to escape from the cage. It has quite a few charms on it. And I suggest keep him somewhere secure with no information going out. I'm sure I don't have to tell you, but I'll do so anyway, there are a lot of people who would not let him take the stand. He could doom a lot of people by taking names out there and I'm sure Barty Crouch wouldn't appreciate his judicial oversight being aired out in the open like that."

"Thanks for that anyway. I hadn't even considered Barty yet. I have no idea what lengths that man might go to. Also, you may not know this but Fudge was also involved in the arrest. He was a junior member of the Magical Department of Accidents and Catastrophes at the time and lately he has been taking more and more credit for the original arrest of Sirius. The political fallout from this will be enormous and he won't like that. He will do anything to stop this from coming into the light, including ordering an immediate kiss. I hope you can pull off as good a Patronus as my nice has claimed in that case."

"Of course. Does that mean I can leave the rest of the matters over to you for now?"

"Yes, you can. I'll get Mad-eyes involved in this one. Pettigrew won't have a chance to escape from that paranoid old man. And once again, thank you so much for everything you have done."

"No problem at all. Owl me when the trial date and timings are finalized so that we can plan our end of the operations."

"Yes, I will. Good day."

"Good day, Madam Bones."

Darius went home after the end of that long day. Everything was coming together beautifully. Now he only had the trial to look forward to. And if Madam Bones was to be believed, that would be in another couple of days.

c 40

The trial was set to be held in two days. Darius had still not talked to Harry about any of this and he would have to do so soon. He already knew from Sirius that Harry had left Privet Drive and he was likely already at Diagon Alley for the last couple of days.

The next task would be to talk to him and he had better do it soon. He headed for Diagon Alley early that day. He would also have to talk to Ted Tonks to let him know about the trial and discuss any last moment tactics.

He decided to head to the Leaky cauldron to search for Harry first. He didn't want to have to search for the guy if he set out into the alley. The bar was nearly empty early in the morning and there were very few patrons still there. He walked up to the owner, Tom to talk about Harry.

"Good morning, Tom! I need your help to find someone."

"Good morning, Darius. And who might you be searching for?"

"I need to talk to Harry Potter please. I already know he is here. I just need to pass on some information to him."

"Very well, Darius. I'll let Mr Potter know and he will meet you if he so desires."

"Very well, I shall wait for him."

Darius sat on a table and had a short meal while waiting for Harry. He assumed Harry was sleeping in late, now that he had a chance to do so. Soon enough, Harry came down the stairs, immediately searching out for him. Noticing Darius, he gave a wide grin and headed over.

"Hi Darius. Nice to see you here."

"Same here, Harry! But I am sorry that I can't stay for long. I have some business after this. But I stopped by to let you know some significant news."

"Oh, alright then! But come by later when you are free. It will be fun to roam around the alley together. So, what's the information you wanted to give me? I already know about Sirius Black's escape, if that's what you wanted to tell me."

"Funnily enough, it is related to Sirius Black though not about his escape specifically. It's a good thing Tom has privacy seals on all these booths for privacy. What I'm about to tell you is quite sensational news. First of all, Sirius Black is your godfather and-"

"What!? That mass murderer is my godfather? Just my luck!"

"Again, it is extremely good luck that these tables are privacy sealed. And now, don't interrupt me anymore. This information is such that you will have several shocks before it is over. You can ask all the questions you have at the end.

So, as I was saying, Sirius Black is your godfather; he also happens to be innocent!"

Harry's eyes bulged at that and he was about to interject before Darius shot him down with a glare.

"Sirius was falsely accused and thrown into Azkaban even without a trial. Hence, he was an innocent man placed in a hellish prison for 12 long years. Add to that, the fact that he was accused of being an accessory to the murder of a friend as close as a blood-brother, it's a wonder he hasn't broken down completely yet."

"You speak as if you met him recently."

"Quite clever, catching that! And yes, in fact, I met him just a few days ago and an acquaintance is giving him shelter right now. And now, for the final shockers! One of his alleged crimes was leading Voldemort to your parents' hideout. But that isn't true. The true traitor was another friend of your parents who framed Sirius for the crime. As it so happens, another friend of mine has arranged for a trial for your godfather and it will be held tomorrow. I didn't want you finding out through some other ways, so I came clean to you with the bare truth."

"Thank you for that! I appreciate it, seriously. But it is a lot to take in. Having a godfather would be great, so let's see how this plays out."

"That's a great attitude. And I assure you, you will love the guy. He and his friends, which includes your father, put the Weasley twins to shame, as far as pranks are concerned. And he has had a hard time of it, having his best friend killed, another turning traitor, being in that ghastly prison for a long time. It will do him good to meet you and be around you more.

Anyway, the main reason to tell you all this was to invite you to come to the trial tomorrow. I will give you a glamour-stone to disguise yourself and you can watch the proceedings yourself. This paper has all the directions you'll need to get to the ministry."

"Alright, thanks! I'll be sure to be there tomorrow."

"Alright, that's all I had to tell you for now. I got to get going for now."

The next day dawned quickly and it was time for the biggest trial of the year.

Sirius was feeling nervous again. He had been briefed by Andi regarding the current make-up of the Wizengamot and he didn't like it one bit. Narcissi had control of the Black seat and he was sure the Malfoy's wouldn't let go of it easily. The seat of an Ancient and Most Noble House counted for a lot, after all. That toady Fudge was the Minister. He couldn't believe it when he heard that little bootlicker became Minister. And that bastard Barty Crouch was a department head. In any proper court, his innocence would be proven without doubt and would be acquitted of all charges. But who could tell with a supremely biased group like the Wizengamot.

Fudge was feeling quite nervous today. Something was feeling wrong and he couldn't put his finger on it. When one has been a politician for as long a time as him, one tends to get a sort of sixth-sense about critical matters. He couldn't help but feel a cold shiver against his back and hoped that whatever was to happen didn't lower his already low public standing after the Sirius Black debacle.

Albus Dumbledore wasn't a man who often felt nervous, but there was something quite strange in the air today. The only item of note today was the emergency trial called by Amelia today. Spirited young woman, that one! But it was strange that he had no prior knowledge about today's trial. Amelia was playing her cards quite close to her chest and this was most unlike her. Even his agents in the Ministry couldn't get any information. Well, he could deal with whatever that came his way. He didn't live such a long time without learning anything after all.

The trial was designated to be held in court room 10 in the deepest bowels of the ministry. It was set for 10 am and Madam Bones had secretly and anonymously alerted several journalists that there might be a trial of the year today and they would regret it if they didn't attend. That stirred up a lot of speculation and everyone rushed to attend. The viewing gallery was already full even before the trial started. No way the Ministry or the Wizengamot could sweep this under the carpet now.

It was five minutes before the trial when the members of the Wizengamot began streaming in. They wore the customary purple robes wit the stylized 'W' embroidered on them. Dumbledore swept in in his usual resplendent robes and took his place as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.

Then Ted Tonks and Darius, in his disguise as Nova Arcanum stepped in with Sirius disguised with a simple charm. No point letting everyone know about the glamour-stones.

The Minister took his place as well and took up his gavel. Darius could see Madam Bones a few seats along and grinned at her. The toad Umbridge was also seated near Fudge and he had a hard time stopping himself from growling in her direction.

"The Minister takes his chair and recognises Chief Warlock Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and the prosecutor Barty Crouch."

We had debated on letting Madam Bones be prosecutor, and she had the right to be in the position of Head of DMLE. But it would be far better to give Barty a proper smack down first and she allowed him the post. He stepped forward now.

"Todays case has been brought forward by Madam Bones and the defending counsels of law are to be recognised. Please step forward."

"I am counsel-at-law Ted Tonks and this is assisting counsel Nova Arcanum. We stand before you today for the case of the Ministry v. Lord Sirius Orion Black III."

Instant pandemonium! Loud yells, jeers, boos rocked the court room as the entire room descended into chaos. It took the minister banging his gavel thrice before some semblance of order was restored.

"What do you mean by this counsellor? And you, Madam Bones? Sirius Black is an escaped convict. Why is the ministry embroiled in a trial with a fugitive?"

Madam Bones stood after the Minister's tirade.

"Minister Fudge and members of the Wizengamot, Sirius Black is not a convict. Hence, I found it prudent to give him the long overdue trial he rightfully deserves."

Dumbledore did not like the way this was going. Sirius Black being in Azkaban was a necessary evil. It was for the Greater Good. He could not allow anybody else to influence the boy. He alone was able to take on that task and make sure Harry turns out the way he is supposed to. He had to speak up.

"Forgive me Amelia, but w-"

"You will address me as Madam Bones, Chief Warlock. This is the court room and I will have you address me with my proper title."

Dumbledore was rather taken aback at that. It seemed there were some strong undercurrents to this trial. And he had not endeared himself to the Head of DMLE.

"Very well, Madam Bones", giving his patented grandfather sigh as if he was just acceding to her whims in a patronising manner.

"What I was about to bring up was your statement about Sirius' status as a convict. I am sure, and everybody in the court will surely collaborate that he most certainly is. I wonder what you mean by that?"

"I stand by what I said, Chief Warlock. A convict is someone who has been tried and found guilty by this court and sentenced thereafter. According to my knowledge, Sirius Black was never given his rightful trial and summarily thrown in Azkaban. Hence, he cannot be called a convict."

The chaos after that was unbelievable. Many of the lords may not like Sirius but they were horrified at his arbitrary prison sentence. If it could happen to someone, it could happen to them. There was utter furore and Dumbledore sounded out two cannon blasts before everyone quieted down. Fudge had to speak up after that explosive statement.

"What do you mean, Madam Bones? Surely, you aren't insinuating that the ministry sent the Lord Black to Azkaban without a trial, are you?"

Tonks took that as his cue to step in.

"That is exactly what she means, Minister Fudge. And that is why we stand before this court today, to get the trial he should have been given immediately after his arrest but denied by your very ministry."

"Preposterous!"

Darius took the chance to step in. After all, Ted had promised he could be the lead in this trial.

"Then I challenge you, Minister, to present to this courts the documentation of Sirius Black's arrest, trial, sentence and imprisonment. Any and every trial of the Wizangamot has its records preserved with powerful magic. Please present the requested records."

Fudge blustered in his usual foolish manner.

"This is foolishness. Ok, let a auror be sent down to the records room to fetch said records. And then we can be done with this façade of a trial. We will take a recess of 10 minutes while the documents are retrieved."

The members of the court filed out and clumped together in groups, discussing the recent developments. Quite a few people were holding a wait-and-watch approach and it all hinged on those documents.

Ten minutes passed by quickly and the court filed in. Everyone took their places and Sirius still stood in the corner of the court near the door, disguised and waiting for his chance to step in.

An auror came up to the minister's stand and handed over a thin black folder. Fudge had a rather smug expression and looked confident as he took the folder in his hands.

His face fell after he opened it and turned the page. He looked rather shocked and his face turned into a nervous one as he looked around.

Darius caught the look and capitulated on the chance.

"You seem to have the required documents, Minister. Care to show it to the rest of us as well."

The lectern in front of him was a special magic-imbued one which could duplicate all the documents placed on it to the rest of the Wizengamot.

The minister was forced into a corner and he knew it. He sent the document to everyone and their were almost immediate cries of outrage. Darius knew there wouldn't be much but picked it up for curiosity's sake.

It was extremely damning. All it had was a document regarding the arrest and a eventual sentence to Azkaban. No interview, no trial, nothing. And to top it off, the prison sentence was signed off by Millicent Bagnold, the then Minister, Barty Crouch and as he had suspected, the then Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore was not having a good day. First Sirius was brought to trial and then that damning document was brought out. Luckily, the assistant counsel seemed to be rather young and naïve. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

"As you can no doubt see in these documents provided by the Minister, Lord Black has never been convicted and hence was illegally incarcerated for the past 12 years. We shall seek appropriate reparations for this grievous miscarriage of justice once we are done with the prelimnary trial. Moreover, his status as an escaped convict automatically becomes void as he was just exercising his right to freedom as a citizen when he escaped from the unlawful detention."

There was another uproar after that statement and now even the reporters and general public in the viewing stands were muttering. It was one thing to throw a traitor Lord into jail but quite another to do so without even the courtesy of a trial. Even known death waters were extended that courtesy. And if what the lawyers and Madam Bones were saying was true, it was an innocent man too.

Fudge tried to calm his heart but wasn't very successful. This was a political shitstorm and he knew it. Curse that Bones woman for bringing this up. He couldn't even talk to the media right now to blow this whole thing over. They were going to have a field day with this news. Delay it! That was the only thing he could do. Delay the trial so that he could get some time to think of a plan and guide the media. Maybe he could even get some advice from Dumbledore.

"Very well, Madam Bones. It appears there has been a drastic case of miscarriage of justice here and we all need some time to think about how this came about. Since we are also lacking the primary defendant Sirius Black, I call for a delay on the trial. I will of course, send the best aurors to bring him in and give him the trial he is due."

Darius had to admit, the porky bastard was smarter than he gave him credit for but it was time for the big reveal. He could also have his fun discrediting the ministry with this.

"There will be no need for that Minister. As it so happens, it was relatively easy to track down Sirius Black and convince him to appear for his trial. I don't know why the ministry has been unsuccessful in his apprehension so far. Anyway, presenting to the court, Lord Sirius Black."

And Sirius stepped forward from his corner. Darius silently dispelled his glamour as he stepped out of the shadows. The man still looked quite gaunt but overall, he was much better than just a few days ago. He was all spruced up and dressed in the finest Acromantulan silk, looking every bit the Lord of a Noble and Most Ancient House that he was.

The Wizengamot and the viewers were in a uproar. Sirius Black was right in front of them. The man being paraded across the paper every day was finally getting his day in court. And from the way things were looking so far, it would go far differently than most would have thought until a few hours ago.

The real trial will now begin!


	9. 4150

c 41

Sirius stepped forward when he heard his cue. He hadn't been paying any attention to the rest of the courtroom until then. He was a bundle of nerves and was trying to reassure himself that he wouldn't have to go back to Azkaban. But the time had come to face the music and he would not shirk back. He was a proud Gryffindor after all. He took the chair for the accused placed in front of the court and sat down. The chains lazily travelled up his arms and bound his arms in place.

Some people believed the chains themselves were an indicator of the guilt of the accused. The guiltiest accused and the unrepentant often had the chains binding them I a flash and holding them tight but in other cases they only loosely bound the prisoner. Nobody could verify this to be true or untrue for certain but it did sway the thoughts of a few members of the court in Sirius' favour.

Sirius started to scan the courtroom. He looked over the rest of the Wizengamot. Augusta Longbottom was in her son's seat. Sirius knew from Bellatrix's shouting in Azkaban what had happened there. He flinched when he spotted Andromeda. Damn, he'd forgotten how much she looked like her sister. And there was Narcissa sitting in his seat! Barty Crouch and Cornelius Fudge were there, too, glaring at him. There were many others in the audience too. Alastor Moody was standing guard. He seemed to have lost an eye since Sirius last saw him, and he now had a creepy-looking magical replacement that constantly roved around the room. Beside him was a pink-haired girl who could only be Nymphadora. An Auror in training? He could almost have laughed. Further down, a blond newspaper reporter in hideous lime green robes was looking increasingly gleeful at the proceedings as a quill was writing by itself in front of her, it was likely that Skeeter woman who had been rising to infamy just before his incarceration.

Darius took the chance to stick it to Barty Crouch.

"I object to Mr Barty Crouch taking position as prosecutor. He has shown himself to disregard due judicial process and has ample reasons for biased judgement. I ask for a fair and impartial proceeding, as is my client's right."

There was a small clamour but Fudge didn't have much of a choice in the matter after I laid out the reasoning, without admitting that he himself was a biased individual as regards to the case.

"Then I ask Madam Bones to assume the seat. She will be quite suitable to handle the proceedings. Let the scribe note the switch of prosecutors to Madam Amelia Bones."

Madam Bones spoke up again. As she did so, she gestured at an Auror near the door and a short pudgy man, obviously Pettigrew, was brought in and placed on another chair a few feet from Sirius Black.

"Peter Pettigrew was apprehended just a few days ago by our department-"

"What!" shouted Sirius, and he wasn't the only one shouting.

"Order!" Bones roared with another crack from her wand.

"As a result of that arrest, Mr. Pettigrew has so far been charged with failure to register as an animagus, criminal use of unregistered animagus ability, and membership in a banned terrorist group."

Before anyone could react to that last bit, she called out.

"Auror Shacklebolt!"

The large Auror strode over to the bound Pettigrew and tore back the man's sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark. The hall erupted into total chaos.

"Evidence for the defence, exhibit one," in reference to Peter's Mark, since Lucius Malfoy and his cronies were loudly protesting anything they could make stick, while half of the liberals and moderates were demanding to know how a Death Eater had evaded capture for so long.

When Madam Bones finally calmed the Council again, she went straight ahead with the trial.

"Lord Sirius Orion Black, you are hereby charged with the following crimes - membership in a banned terrorist group, high treason, two counts of accessory to murder in the first degree of Lord James Potter and Lady Lily Evans Potter, conspiracy to commit murder in the first degree of Harry James Potter, gross breach of the Statute of Secrecy, illegal use of dark magic, attempted murder in the first degree of Peter Pettigrew, and twelve counts of murder in the second degree of…"

And here Madam Bones named the twelve muggle victims of Peter's curse.

"Lord Black, how do you plead?"

Sirius's voice became quiet and tired, but he looked determined as he responded, "Not guilty to all."

"Will you submit to questioning under Veritaserum willingly?"

"I will."

It was at this point that Lucius Malfoy stood again.

"I must object, Madame Bones. Lord Black is a suspected occlumens based on both his record and the fact that he is coherent just days after escaping from Azkaban. Therefore, his testimony under Veritaserum cannot be considered trustworthy."

There was more shouting from the hall as many liberals protested this move, but the Azkaban card was a good one, Sirius had to admit. Most prisoners took weeks to recover after long sentences. It raised just enough suspicion to kill the idea. Granted, he did know some Occlumency, but not enough to beat Veritaserum.

"I call for a vote on the admissibility of Lord Black's testimony."

"Seconded," spoke a witch whom Sirius didn't recognise.

"Very well," said Madam Bones.

"On the admissibility of the testimony of Lord Black under Veritaserum: all those in favour…all those opposed…"

The vote was close, but a definite loss.

"The motion is not carried. I remind the Council, though, that we have a witness to the events in question. Peter Pettigrew, will you submit to questioning under Veritaserum as witness for the defence?"

"N-no, no I will not. I will not defend that traitor," the rat said.

No surprise there. If he'd had money or political allies, Peter could have spilt everything and claimed Imperius, except that Sirius would still kill him. But since he didn't have either of those he didn't have the luxury that of that.

"We are not asking you to defend him. We merely ask you for a true account of the events on the night of the murder of the Potter family. I am also obliged to tell you that without having the status of being a Lord, you may be forcefully administered Veritaserum and your refusal would only hurt your case further.

Pettigrew still resisted and Auror Shacklebolt was called forward to administer the required 3 drops of Veritaserum.

Amelia Bones's voice began speaking.

"What is your name?"

"Peter Patrick Pettigrew."

"Are you a Death Eater?"

"Yes."

"When were you marked as a Death Eater?"

"The thirtieth of October, 1980."

"So, you had been suppying information to Voldemort for over a year before the attack happened?"

"Yes."

"What did you do to receive the Dark Mark?"

"I information to the Dark Lord that led to the deaths or injury of several aurors and members of the Order of Phoenix."

There were gasps in the hall at this as the renewed suspicions about what had happening in 1981 began to be confirmed.

"How did you betray the Potters?"

"I told the Dark Lord the location where they were hiding under a Fidelius Charm."

"You were the Secret Keeper?"

It was Shacklebolt's voice that asked that one.

"Yes."

"It wasn't Sirius Black?" another voice asked, presumably Auror Scrimgeour's.

"No."

Sirius looked back over at Fudge. A look of horror was on his face, and the people around him didn't look much better.

"Why were you the Secret Keeper when it was believed to be Sirius Black?"

"James and Lily wanted Sirius to be the Secret Keeper, but Sirius believed that was too obvious. He said he would claim to be the Secret Keeper, but would secretly switch with someone else. He suggested me as the least likely person."

Sirius started crying. He couldn't imagine that one little decision would cause such damage.

"Did anyone else know about this change?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"They wanted as few people to know as possible. They were on to the fact that there was a spy among them.

"Why did you betray the Potters?"

"The Dark Lord ordered me to bring him any available information on their whereabouts."

"Why were you working for You-Know-Who?"

"I was afraid. The Dark Lord tracked me down and threatened me a year earlier. He said I must serve him as a spy or else die painfully. I already thought he was going to win, so-"

"Coward!" Sirius shouted.

"Be quiet!" snapped Shacklebolt, prodding him with his wand.

"What did You-Know-Who do after you told him the Potters' location?"

"The Dark Lord marked me that night and said he had plans to make. The following night, he ordered me to escort him to the cottage, which I did. He ordered me to wait outside while he went in…"

"What happened next?"

"After that, I saw the light from two more Killing Curses," Pettigrew continued relentlessly.

"But after the second one, the cottage exploded. I ran inside, but I found no sign of the Dark Lord. I immediately apparated away."

"Did you kill twelve muggles in Salisbury?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I cast a Confringo at a gas valve cover on the street, causing an explosion."

"So our cover story of a gas explosion was for an actual gas explosion?" Scrimgeour said.

The question wasn't intended for Pettigrew, but he answered, "Yes."

"How did you escape?" Bones asked.

"I used a Shield Charm to protect myself, cut off my finger as a cover, transformed to rat form, and escaped through the hole into the sewers."

"You are a rat animagus?"

"Yes."

"Are you registered?"

"No."

"Did you see Sirius Black kill anyone that day?"

"No."

"Did you see Sirius Black attempt to kill anyone that day?"

"Only me."

"Did you see Sirius Black break of the Statute of Secrecy that day?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

"He apparated, brandished his wand, and attempted to curse me in front of muggles."

"Was Sirius Black ever a Death Eater, to your knowledge?"

"No."

Madam Augusta Longbottom spoke up after this.

"Madam Bones, I move that all charges against Lord Black be dropped immediately."

Many of the Lords and Ladies looked to be in favour of that already.

"Madam Bones, that is preposterous!" Barty Crouch growled, doing his best to save face.

"Mr. Pettigrew's testimony clearly indicates that Lord Black did attempt to murder him and also violated the Statute of Secrecy. Furthermore, we have no definitive proof that he is not a Death Eater."

"Well, why don't you roll up my sleeves and actually check for once, Barty?" Sirius demanded.

"That's enough, Lord Black," Bones said.

"Auror Shacklebolt, do it."

The Auror quickly pulled back both of Sirius's sleeves, revealing bare forearms.

"I move that all charges against Lord Black be dropped except minor breach of the Statute of Secrecy and attempted murder in the first degree of Peter Pettigrew," Lord Smith suggested.

The Lords and Ladies started talking over each other again.

"Madam Bones, Lord Black was employed as a Hitwizard at the time, and as such was authorised-"

"I second Lord Smith's motion-"

"Order! Order!" Amelia Bones silenced the hall.

"I have a second on Lord Smith's motion to drop all charges except minor breach of the Statue of Secrecy and attempted first degree murder. All those in favour…? All those opposed…?"

The motion carried easily.

"Lord Black, would you like to revise your plea at this time?"

Sirius stared at the monocled witch in confusion. That wasn't normal procedure. She must want him to do something. Of course, if he was found innocent, then he could be reinstated, and then she was technically his boss. Maybe she's on my side. But what could he do? He knew a thing or two about Cornelius Fudge, and with the right leverage, it just might work. It would be a small price to pay, all things considered. After all, if he was Lord Black now, he certainly didn't need the money. All he really wanted was to see his godson.

"Madam Bones, that morning, I was overcome by grief at James and Lily's deaths, and I was not thinking clearly. I felt like I was responsible, and I could only think of revenge. I should have seen to Harry instead of going after Peter. Yes, I tried to kill him - Peter, that is - but I certainly wasn't in my right mind when I did it. When he escaped, I lost it entirely. That's why I was laughing in the street, which I assume is why I was just presumed guilty and shipped off to Azkaban without so much as a questioning, which was not just a perversion of justice, but shoddy law enforcement work."

Crouch was glaring at him again, but Fudge was definitely starting to sweat. Good.

"But from what I can tell, that was under the previous administration. I'd really rather put this all behind me and not drag it out, ma'am, so I am willing to plead guilty to a minor breach of the Statute of Secrecy, and I am also willing to waive any right to file criminal or civil charges against the Ministry for denial of rights and wrongful imprisonment in this case - that in exchange for dropping the attempted murder charge."

"I move to accept Lord Black's plea bargain immediately," Lord Smith said at once.

"Seconded," said Madam Longbottom.

"I have a second," Bones said before too much debate could start up.

"All those in favour…?"

The liberals in the Wizengamot gradually raised their wands and lighted them, apparently being persuaded by Sirius's story, though few people seemed to want to be seen as the first. A few moderates did the same, while Malfoy's conservatives remained steadfastly motionless. But gradually, more and more wands were raised until, under the weight of the stares, Cornelius Fudge raised his, and many of the moderates followed, though Barty Crouch conspicuously didn't.

"All opposed…?"

The conservatives and many of the moderates lit their wands. There were plenty of people who weren't happy to see the attempted murder charge go as a political matter, even if they weren't particularly against him personally. It would be a close vote. Sirius held his breath as he waited for the verdict.

"By a vote of thirty-two to twenty-six…" said Bones, "the motion carries."

Sirius smiled as actual cheers erupted from his supporters and from the gallery. Hearing Peter's interrogation must have given him some good allies and unlikely ones - light side ones. It was good to be back, he thought for the first time.

"Lord Sirius Orion Black, you are hereby fined one hundred galleons for a minor breach of the Statute of Secrecy, and all other charges will be struck from your record," said Bones.

"I apologise deeply for the actions of this body twelve years ago. You're free to go, and may I be the first to say, welcome back."

The chains fells away from Sirius's arms, he rose slowly, shakily to his feet, taking in another round of applause. He didn't bother even looking at the rat as he took a few uneasy steps forward. After twelve long years, he was a free man. And he knew he owed it to that young man, Ted Tonks and Madam Bones.

Dumbledore was not happy. The whole incident had a sort of scripted feel to it. Somebody was pulling the strings from the back, and was as good at it as he was. It couldn't be Madam Bones, she was too straight-forward for this. Ted Tonks and his assistant only came into the picture recently, so were not likely suspects. He would have to put some thought into this. Keeping Sirius apart from Harry was not an option either. Sirius wouldn't hear of it. He would have to go over his plans again.

Darius could see the gears in Dumbledore's head spinning from where he sat. The meddling old fool must be plotting something again. But now was not the time to have sad thoughts. It was time to introduce Harry, who was in disguise with the viewing gallery, to his Godfather.

c 42

It was a grand moment for Sirius. He was finally free after 12 years. Now the next two aims were to meet his dearest Godson and his old friend. He spotted Darius, or rather, Nova Arcanum in this disguise, coming his way.

"How about that Sirius? You are free now and all those awful allegations have also been disproved. I'm guessing your next aim is to re-unite with your Godson?"

"Hell yeah! Though, I promised Andi I will continue my medical treatment, so I will have to head to St. Mungo's soon."

"That shouldn't be a problem. And Harry is nearer than you would think. In fact, he is in the viewing gallery, waiting in disguise. I have already told him about you and he is most eager to meet you."

"That' awesome! Let's go meet him right now. But I can see you have something more to say. What is it?"

"I didn't want to agitate you during your treatment and didn't have much time to fill you in, what with all the preparations for the trial but Harry has not exactly had a very pleasant life. He was placed with his aunt and un-"

"WHAT!? He was placed with those despicable people? How could this happen? Somebody should have-"

"CALM DOWN! Now listen to me. He hasn't had a pleasant childhood, true. But that is in the past and can't be changed. And if you go after the muggles, you'll be making the same mistake you made 12 years ago. You need to forget about revenge and take care of Harry first and foremost."

"Ouch! That was below the belt, kid! But thanks. I needed that. So, what do you suggest?"

Meet him, show how much you care for him and just be together. Both of you need it. BUt I have a few warmings for you and you need to heed them well."

"Oh?"

"First, do not under any circumstances, trust Albus Dumbledore. I know the entire wizarding world seems to think the sun shines out of his arse but he is a cunning, manipulative old man who has his own agenda and I'm sorry to say, which involves Harry. I'll tell you more later but keep that in mind for now.

Second, Voldemort is not dead. He is in a sort of wraith-like form but very much alive. Again, more details later. We will need to have these talks in a more secure location.

Third, I know being a member of the Black family, famous for their mind arts, you must have been well-trained since a young age. I need you to remember those skills and keep them active at all times. Dumbledore has a nasty habit has the nasty walk of taking a peek in other people's minds whenever he wishes. That twinkling eyes thing he has going on, it is a simple cantrip that he uses to draw attention to his eyes, thus enabling him to use passive Legilimency to read your thoughts. In fact, I want you to teach Harry as best as you can, as well.

There are a few more but we can wait till we get to your house."

"My word, that is a lot to take in. But I have full confidence in you and your requests don't harm me in any way."

"Very well, let's go meet Harry. I want to leave before Dumbledore corners us. Oh, Speak of the devil!"

Dumbledore was walking towards us with steady steps, no doubt having already planned how to manipulate us next.

"Good morning, Mr Arcanum! And it's great to see you Sirius, my boy!"

"If it was so great, I wouldn't have minded if you had done so a few years earlier. Azkaban really offers less than stellar accommodations, you know?"

"Well, my boy-"

"And stop it with this 'my boy' nonsense. My name is Lord Sirius Black and you will address me as such until I give you leave to do so otherwise. I have already been told about your meddling in my godson's life and you are walking on very thin ice with me. I am this close to hexing you at sight."

"I can see that you have a lot of repressed emotions and I will give you the time to get over them. But I simply must insist on continuing to help in Harry's future, my boy!"

Darius chose this moment to cut in. He knew Sirius was inches away from hexing Dumbledore and that wouldn't go over very well with the crowd. Maybe even that was Dumbledore's intent. No one knew with that crafty old man.

"If you will excuse me, Chief Warlock! I am currently Lord Black's legal counsellor and this happens to fall under my purview.

First of all, let me disabuse you of the notion that you have any part to play in young Mr Potter's life other than being his school headmaster. His godfather is Sirius Black and as such, is his legal and magical guardian. You may have taken advantage of your position in the Wizengamot 12 years ago to appoint yourself as such but immediately upon clearing Lord Black's name said responsibilities have been shifted to him.

And do not try to go around the Lord Black on this. I have evidence of your negligent guardianship which would automatically invalidate you from ever taking up guardianship for anyone ever again. The placement of a future Lord in a muggle residence, doing so with full knowledge of their attitude towards magic make you complicit in every act of emotional and physical trauma inflicted upon the Lord Potter. You have also failed in your duties by not checking up on him once over the period of ten years, not getting him his inoculations against magical diseases at St. Mungo's, not teaching him his rights and duties as a future Lord in the Wizengamot etc. I am sure I could come up with a dozen more charges easily."

Dumbledore was growing steadily paler as Darius rattled of the list and by the end, seemed rather shaken up. He obviously hadn't expected someone so young and possibly naïve, to know so much about his faults and planning. It was a rather sobering moment and he knew he had to take this young man very seriously, or it would come back to bite him in the arse.

"Now look here, young man! I don't know who gave you this information but I have only Harry's best interests at heart. Everything I have done is for his sake and I will not be questioned by a young whelp still wet behind his ears. He needs to go back to his muggle residence as the blood wards there are the only things that can keep him safe till his magical maturity."

"No, Mr Dumbledore, you want to keep him there to keep him soft and malleable, and therefore vulnerable to your manipulations. I have done my homework and there is a lot about your actions that don't add up. But not to worry, I am sure Lord Black can take care of Harry from now on.

And you speak of blood wards? Those wards are not even enough to stop a determined second year from entering the residence. Blood-based wards are based on emotion and this was based on the emotion of love and self-sacrifice held by Lily Potter towards her son. Mr Potter's aunt, uncle and cousin hold none of them and only hate him and Mr Potter reciprocates in kind. Those wards became defunct many years ago and now only serve as a drain on Mr Potter's magical core and stop him from achieving his full potential. If I didn't know better, I would say you are purposefully trying to weaken young Mister Potter."

Darius felt a sense of satisfaction go through him as he saw Dumbledore blanch at that. Sirius was almost ready to pounce on the man before Darius could restrain him.

Dumbledore could feel a cold trickle of sweat run down his back. This man did know a lot more than he was letting on and he wasn't bluffing at all. This was serious. Who was this guy and why did he seem to be privy to so much? He couldn't have Harry growing up to be a knowledgeable and headstrong boy. He needed him to be soft and malleable so that he is ready to sacrifice himself when the time is right. Harry living with Sirius is bad enough but this young man's influence upon him would be even worse. He had to try again.

"Oh, come now! I only have Harry's best interests at heart. And I am sure the wards are functioning just fine. But Sirius has just come out from a dreadful place after 12 long years and I am sure he will need a lot of medical care. I am sure his relatives would be willing to take him back for the remaining month of vacation."

Sirius couldn't bare it anymore.

"Can't you understand English, you old fart, or are you going senile in your old age? I can take care of Harry just fine without your meddling. And thanks to you massive fuck-ups I am sure Harry needs a long visit to St Mungo's himself. Now clear off, before I tell Mr Nova here to release every bit of information he has on you to the general public."

Dumbledore was on the back foot again and he most certainly didn't like the feeling. It had been a long time since someone contradicted him so vehemently and he was not used to it. He had a lot of planning to do for the future. At least the boy would have to come to the school, where he would have nine months with his to influence him to see things his way. Yes, that would have to do. This was nothing more than a small bump on the road and he could still manage to steer the way as he desired.

Darius could almost see Dumbledore plotting again. Why wouldn't the meddling old coot just give up. At least he would be there with Harry at school to stop Dumbledore from influencing him while there.

"Very well, it seems neither of you are in a mood to have a rational discussion about young Harry's future and we will have to put that off until later. But this is certainly not the last of our talks. Good day."

And he just walked off as if we hadn't just giving him the talking to of his life. He would have to watch that old man very carefully to stop him from pulling off any more tricks in the future. Even Sirius seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

"Whew! That was intense. I can see what you meant about his manipulations. Now that I am forewarned, it was fairly easy to spot it."

"I told you that Sirius. In some ways, Dumbledore is an even bigger danger than Voldemort. But worry not! I got your backs. Now let's go meet Harry!"

Sirius and Darius went up to meet Harry but the sheer number of reporters there was enough to immediately decide against revealing Harry. It would be enough to cause a stampede. As it is just having Sirius there was causing the place to become jam-packed and they had to squeeze their way out. Darius immediately grabbed Harry, who was in a corner and the three of them escaped. They made their way to the Ministry Atrium before taking the floo to 12, Grimmauld Place.

They popped out of the floo one after the other. Sirius first, followed by Harry and Darius bring up the rear. Harry slid forward and knocked Sirius down and the both of them fell in a tangled heap on the floor. Unfortunately, that had the side effect of waking up the screaming banshee known as Walburga Black, also known as Sirius' mum.

Filth! Mudbloods! Blood-traitors! Get out of the Black house. Out! No filth like yo-"

Darius ran up to the portrait and managed to close it after an immense effort. Sirius gave a pained grimace on seeing the portrait and Darius bet he was already thinking of ways he could tear it down as soon as possible.

Well, Darius was inside the Black residence and it was time to talk to Sirius and Harry and get started on his objectives here!

c 43

Darius had a lot he needed to inform both Sirius and Harry about. But he also had to pace it. No need to overload them with information on the very first day. But he had promised himself, he would not keep Harry from the truth like the old manipulator had. It would do much more harm than good. Dumbledore might have always held back because of Harry's youth but the poor guy had gone through a lot and deserved to at least have the truth laid at his feet.

"First of all, I must tell you the information I have could be extremely dangerous in the wrong hands. I know that the two of you are trustworthy, but that doesn't mean much in the magical world. There are Legilimens who can pull the truth out of your minds, potions to make you spill your deepest secrets, lethal poisons which can be used to threaten or blackmail you and much more."

Darius would have liked to place the information under Fidelius if he could. It would have solved all the problems. Nobody could have gotten a hold of the information and he could discuss it with those he shared the secret. But despite having full knowledge of the spell from his Grimoire, he couldn't cast the spell yet. Voldemort had researched extensively into the spell when his enemies began using it to evade him and the knowledge was helpful but for the moment, the spell was still beyond him. Maybe he could Fidelius a location, if he had wardstones with him to support him but doing so for some knowledge just about made it twice as complicated.

"I would have liked to place the knowledge under Fidelius if I could, but it is still beyond me for the moment. For the time being, I would like you, Sirius, to teach Harry everything he needs to know about Occlumency. You may even delve into the Black Library to see if you could rustle up some quick method to train in it. The Blacks were not known as the foremost family in the mind-arts for nothing."

"Of course, I want to do so. But you already know I will be spending significant amounts of time in St Mungo's. Won't it be better to get a new teacher for this. We could easily afford a tutor."

"It's not a matter of money, Sirius. Do you really want a random Legilimens going through your Godson's mind? No, it needs to be you. And you need to go through those family tomes sharpish. You'll have to settle down in St Mungo's for a while now. And moreover, Harry needs to spend some significant time as well. Maybe you could even room together."

"Alright when you put it like that, I don't have much choice, do I? But what's this about Harry going to the hospital? Why would he need to spend time there?"

"I'll get to that later. I have several matters to discuss and don't have much time. We have an important appointment later and can't afford to miss out on it."

"Very well! Let's hear of what you have to say."

"Right! This is going to be somewhat long, so just sit tight and listen. You can ask all the doubts want to later.

First of all, Harry, do you know why Voldemort came to your house 12 years later. Everyone knew he did, but there may be less than five people who know exactly why. And I happen to be one of them.

There was a prophecy made about a year before your birth. It was made by Sybill Trelawny, a fraud if there ever was one, but she did have seer blood in her veins. It was made to Albus Dumbledore, who was interviewing her for the Divination post at Hogwarts. But as fate would have it, she chose that meeting to make the prophecy and it happened to be overheard by a Death Eater. The prophecy was as follows-

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ...

Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ...

And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ...

And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives …

Now, if the prophecy had been made in some corner of the world with no one to listen, it would have been worthless. As it so happened Dumbledore did hear it, as did a death eater, who promptly reported it to Voldemort, who also took it seriously. As it turns out the DE did not hear it in its entirety and only heard the first couple of lines. Voldemort would have never gone ahead with his murder attempt rashly if he had heard the rest of it. But he did not and therefore made the attempt on your life.

Strangely, there were two children who the prophecy could have applied too. Neville, who was born just a day before you, could also be the person in the first couple of lines. But it is Voldemort's choice which made all the difference. He chose you, marked you with the scar and thus practically ensured that you were the child of prophecy."

The two of them had their jaws dropped. Whatever they were expecting, it certainly wasn't this. That a simple prophecy could have so much effect on their lives was not a very pleasant thought. Nevertheless, at least they were getting some answers to their questions and they were eager for more.

"All that is well and good, but how do you know so much? This truly does sound fantastical but it also seems somewhat probable. But that makes the question all the more pertinent. How are you privy to this information? According to you, even Voldemort only knows the first two lines. By what I know, you are a simple Hogwarts student who is a year older than Harry and two years his senior at school but who are you truly."

"I am exactly who I say I am, Sirius Black. As for the source, that is a bit more difficult to explain. I have thought about this, believe me, and the best explanation I could come up with is I have some seer like capabilities myself. I am sorry, but I won't disclose any further. But I am almost completely sure about said information. Plenty of other incidents and pieces of knowledge confirm it."

"I understand. And I am sorry for the forward questions. I don't want to interrogate the person who made it possible to meet my Godson but you have to admit it all sounds a bit fantastical."

"Of course, I do. I can hardly believe the circumstances I am in myself. Anyways, I am sure you want to know about the DE in question but revealing that would cause a lot of trouble right nw. The person is directly responsible for a lot of the grief that befell the two of you but his current position makes it extremely difficult to take him to task for it and I won't have the two of you endangering our entire cause for it. I will reveal the truth to you one day, but that day isn't today. I assure you though, that this person will get what is coming to them.

Now, the next part of my information. It is my belief that Dumbledore believes himself the only one who can enable this prophecy to be completed. Therefore, he took it upon himself to do so. His first action was to send Harry t the Dursleys, as that would leave Harry totally unaware of the wizarding world when he entered it and thus malleable to Dumbledore's will. I believe Dumbledore intends for Harry to perish to Voldemort and then step in himself-"

"LIKE HELL HE WILL! I HAVE BEEN LISTENING TO YOU LONG ENOUGH AND NOW IT IS TIME FOR THAT GOAT FUCKER TO ENTER THE GRAVE-"

"SIRIUS! You have been apart from Harry for 12 years. Do you wish to be apart from him forever? Murdering the Chief Warlock will have you sent to the Veil before you can say trial. This is the reason I wanted to speak to you in private. I can't have you gallivanting off after that whiskered arse and then end up leaving Harry alone again. We will deal with the old manipulator at a later time. Now will you let me speak my piece?"

"Yes, I will. I am not happy about it, but I will. But that white-whiskered arse will get his someday. And the day is fast approaching. For now, I'll hold my peace, for Harry's sake."

"Good, in fact you should expect Dumbledore to goad you sometime in the near future. I don't expect him to release too many secrets but he will try to agitate you, maybe make you attack him."

Sirius was rather flustered at that. He didn't see that one coming.

"And why the hell would he do that?"

"Because you are Harry's best hope of getting out from under his thumb. Being his godfather, you are Harry's legal guardian now and are in a position to influence him. Something which does not suit Dumbledore's needs at all. He doesn't want a strong-willed, intelligent and knowledgeable boy-who-lived. He wants a gullible boy who will dance to his tunes. Making you out as violent or mentally unstable would be a convenient way to pry away Harry's guardianship from you."

"That sounds almost too far-fetched. Yet after hearing everything you had to say, it sounds almost exactly what he would try to do. Very well, I'll keep on my toes and be careful around him. And with so much information, I understand why you would wish for both of us to be well versed in Occlumency."

"Good, make sure you do. And now for the last piece of knowledge that I'll be sharing today. I know the source of Voldemort's immortality. The very reason he isn't dead yet."

""WHAT!?""

"Oh yes! In fact, I believe you may be able to find it in the Black Library if you searched hard enough, Sirius. It is one of the darkest rituals known to man and it involves objects known as Horcruxes. Familiar term, Sirius?"

"Maybe. I do seem to have heard it or read of it somewhere, but I'm not sure where. What do you know about it."

"All I need to tell you is that it is a dark ritual requiring the murder of a person in cold blood to rip a piece f one's soul from the whole and store it in a phylactery of sorts. This object, in which the soul is stored, is then called a Horcrux. It anchors the soul to the mortal plain, preventing it from truly moving on. Making just one is a horrendous prospect that risks the person's very sanity. Though I would say any person doing this ritual never had any anyway. Nevertheless, it will shock you to know that Voldemort has no fewer than seven Horcruxes and he can't be truly killed till they have been truly destroyed."

"My god! Now I remember about horcruxes. And I can't believe that madman made seven of them. He is beyond insane to do that."

"Well, no one said that he wasn't a bit demented. But in any case, there is good news."

"What is it? I could really use some right now."

"Well, I have personally seen to the destruction of two of them and know the current location of four more."

""WHAT!?""

"Yup! I'll explain shortly. In the meantime, Sirius, mind calling your house-elf Kreacher? He has a story of his own to share with us."

Sirius looked dumbfounded at that. He couldn't help but call out in surprise.

"Kreacher!?"

CRACK!

c 44

CRACK!

And Kreacher popped into view.

Like all house elves, Kreacher was considerably smaller than a human. He had a bulbous, snout-like nose, bloodshot eyes, many folds of skin, and white hair growing out of his bat-like ears.

"Oh, Kreacher has been summoned by the traitor brat who broke the mistress' heart? What would she say if she saw? Kreacher is so-"

"She didn't have a heart, Kreacher and you better shut up if you know what is good-"

"ENOUGH! Sirius, tell him to shut up and you listen to what I have to say for a moment."

"Alright then! But I don't like the little bastard and I'm most certainly not happy to be back in this house. Ok, Kreacher, listen up. From this moment, be silent unless you are spoken to."

Kreacher's eyes bulged as he tried to open his mouth to say something but he finally calmed down and just stood there. Darius felt a little sorry for the pathetic little elf but he had some explaining to do.

"Sirius, I know I have already taken up a lot of time but we have just a little bit more to do. First, I must tell you more about your own brother, Regulus Arcturus Black. He may have been the perfect little pureblood and joined the death eaters in his time but he wasn't so in the end. He didn't get cold feet in the end. He realised the true degree of atrocities that Voldemort would commit and seeing how it would bring magical Britain down to its knees decided to do something to hamper Voldemort's efforts.

Your brother tried to steal an extremely important item from him. He literally went after a piece of his soul. I think you can see where I am going with this. He stole one of Voldemort's Horcruxes and if I'm not mistake, Kreacher here, knows its exact location."

By this time Sirius, Harry and Kreacher had wide open eyes. Sirius couldn't believe the bravery of the little brother who he had always hated after his foray into the death eaters. Harry couldn't believe they were so close to finding another one of that accursed man's soul containers. He had almost despaired when he first heard about what lengths Voldemort had gone to evade death but things were beginning to look up. And Kreacher was absolutely stunned. He may not know the term Horcrux but he clearly understood what object they were talking about here. It was the one, last order of Master Regulus that he had been unable to fulfil. Dear, respected master Regulus, and he had let him down.

Kreacher couldn't bear it and broke down.

"Bad Kreacher! Bad Kreacher! Couldn't complete master Regulus' last order. Couldn't destroy object. Oh, he tried! Tried so many times but he couldn't do it. Couldn't destroy the locket."

Sirius was dumbfounded. He really shouldn't be after all the surprises Darius had heaped on him but it was a lot to take in.

"You mean to tell me, this little toe-rag actually knows the location of one of Voldemort's soul containers! Well, that's great! Let's get to destroying it then."

"Master is wanting to destroy locket? He is knowing how to? Kreacher can finally complete last order?"

"So, Regulus' last order was to destroy the horcrux, huh? That sad little fellow. Whay couldn't he have just come to me. I didn't want him to be embroiled in all this mess. Trying to act like a hero at the last minute. But fear no, I will complete his last request. Where is the locket, Kreacher? Bring it here."

Kreacher gave a shaky nod and popped off. Darius knew it was somewhere in the living room but he didn't fancy having to go through all that clutter and dangerous items. Much easier to just ask Kreacher to get it out.

And the little elf popped back into view holding the locket of Slytherin in his hands. It was just as its description in the books. A large, oval locket of heavy gold with a serpentine 'S' inlaid in green jewels.

All eyes in the room were drawn to the tiny, innocuous looking object which harnessed the very soul fragment of the dark lord. Though Darius would have to be careful that no one put in n by any means.

"Well, now that we have the locket, we can go about storing it safely. I have a location in Hogwarts where I removed the soul fragments from the last two and I will do so for this one as well. Kreacher, you are welcome to come when I destroy the soul fragment within. I know you would wish to see you late master's last order fulfilled and I'll see to that."

Kreacher started sobbing once again and thanked Darius profusely. He extracted a promise to summon the little elf when the time came to destroy the horcrux and then finally relaxed when he had it. He gave a deep bow to Darius and even a sort of shaky, half-bow to Sirius and Harry before disapparating away.

Sirius was stunned. So much had happened today, it was just a bit too much to take in. Kreacher showing the slightest respect to him was the straw that broke the camel's back. They had come so far in their quest to nail the Dark Wanker responsible for his dearest friends' deaths and making is godson's life miserable that he found it hard to believe it was not a dream. But a painful pinch later, he no longer had any such doubts and it became hard to stop himself from whooping in joy. And he owed it all to this remarkable, young Darius.

Darius carefully took the locket, put in in a conjured iron box, sealed it shut and put it away in his spatial bag. He would do the soul extraction when he was back in Hogwarts. He could of course have the goblins take care of the process but he didn't want to unnecessarily want to waste a precious resource. It would be a great thing to have additional Grimoires. Maybe he could even let Harry keep one.

"Now that we have that over with, who's up for a trip to Gringotts?"

"Why Gringotts?"

"Come on, its important. But I suppose it's better if you guys knew about it beforehand instead of having it sprung on you after we get there.

I suspect that Voldemort formed an unintentional Horcrux when he attempted to kill Harry. That is the reason Harry learnt to speak Parseltongue. Thankfully Voldemort is in spirit form and cannot use this connection now. If he ever managed to recreate a body for himself, he could use this connection against Harry and we can't have that."

Harry had a surprised and then contemplative look on his face. He must be remembering each time the scar reacted or hurt, especially when he was in close proximity to Quirrell. But Sirius seemed frantic with worry.

"B-but can living people even be made into Horcruxes? And if they can. Is there any way to remove the soul fragment without damaging the host?"

"Unfortunately, it is possible. I wouldn't have mentioned it if it wasn't a very likely possibility. And as for its safe removal, it is impossible by wizarding capabilities. But the true masters in curse-breaking and dark artefacts are goblins and they have the capability to remove the Horcrux, though at a price. Nothing we can't handle, of course. That's why we need to head to Gringotts. Plus, I have a couple of things I need to pick up from there."

"I don't care about the price. They can have my entire vault for all I care. I want that thing out of my godson's head."

"Make sure you don't mention that to the goblins or that is exactly the price they will demand. But enough chit-chatting, let's head to Gringotts."

After they had their chuckles at that bit of humour, they headed to the fireplace and took the floo to Gringotts. Darius never knew it was even possible. But if he thought about it, everywhere in wizarding Britain is connected, so why wouldn't be the sole bank in the country. They popped out in a tastefully decorated room with plenty of area and an entire wall of fireplace with a single door leading out. They made their way out and found themselves in the far corner of the atrium.

After asking Harry and Sirius to wait awhile, Darius made his way to the goblin tellers.

"Goblin teller, I am warrior Icarus and I seek audience with Warlord Ragnarok. I have an appointment with him from earlier and I wish to meet him. I also have two companions he will wish to meet urgently. Please convey my request and let me know his response at your earliest convenience."

The goblin looked pleasantly surprised at Darius' correct greeting before schooling his features into an impassive mask again.

"It shall be done. I will send a goblin runner as soon as possible. Please take seats at the back of the hall and you will be called."

Darius went back to Sirius and Harry.

"I have spoken to them. We shall soon meet the head of Gringotts. Sirius, you better meet your Black account manager after that. I suppose your finances must be in a shabby state of affairs after so many years of neglect."

"Yeah, I'll do that. But what were the things you wanted to pick up?"

"Yeah, I'll get going just after I introduce you guys to Ragnarok. I will need to meet my account manager for that."

We only had to wait for ten minutes before a young-looking goblin made his appearance and begin to guide us to the Ragnarok's office. Darius knew the way of course, but it was polite to wait until you were called for.

"Ah, warrior Icarus! It is good to see you again. And I see you made good on your promise to bring the living Horcrux so soon. Though I guess I should have guessed it may have been Harry Potter. Knowing the creator of the other ones should have made that obvious. By the way, we have also managed to remove the soul fragment from the cup and it is in your account manager's custody now. I believe he has also completed your other order by now."

Darius grinned at that. He was hoping it would be done by now.

"Ah, I'm glad to see both my requests have been accomplished already. In fact, I think I will leave to see my account manager now. Harry can Sirius can take care of the rest on their own. But I am curious, how did you know Harry was the living Horcrux just by looking at him?"

"It would be a simple task for experienced goblin curse-breakers. I smelled the stench of soul magic the moment he entered the room. Soul magic is dangerous for a reason and even goblins can fall for it, particularly in the older tombs. The more experienced of us have a sense for it and are wary the second we know it is around us. Thankfully this process will not be dangerous to any of us and we should be able to safely conduct it in ur ritual room. But only young Potter may be allowed in the room. I suppose the two others can take the time to meet their account managers."

Harry was led away soon after that. Sirius was not really happy about it but he understood it had to be done. He headed off for his on manager and Darius left for his manager Goreclaw.

"Ah, welcome warrior Icarus! I have been looking forward to your arrival. The tasks set by you have been completed and all proceeds for the sale has already been deposited into your account vault."

"Thank you, manager Goreclaw. As usual, goblin efficiency is astonishing. Fine, so first things first, may I have the cup?"

He handed the cup to Darius and he instantly realised it had been cleansed. It didn't have that sickly, cloying feel again and was all the better for it. He carefully sealed it and put it away in his spatial bag again. He now actually had four of the Founder's items in his bag right now. Though of course, one of them was still a horcrux. It was a heady feeling.

"Thank you for your fine work. And my other request, manager Goreclaw?"

"Ah, that! It is one of our finer works in recent years. Both due to the quality of the materials and the fact that we were making it for an actual warrior who had earned it for himself. I'll bring it in now."

The short goblin hopped down and made his way to the side-room before coming back, pulling a wheeled mannequin behind him. But Darius' eyes weren't on the goblin anymore. He was busy admiring the armour behind him.

It was MAGNIFICENT!

c 45

The duelling robes were a thing of beauty. Just placed there on the wooden mannequin, they looked decidedly deadly.

The inner vest was a pale-green sleeveless jerkin with a shallow V-neck. It seemed to be made of the smooth inner hide of the basilisk. It was trimmed with acromantulan silk and looked well-fitted. There was a silken hood at the neck too.

There was a wand-holster on the left-wrist as well. Strictly speaking, wand-holsters were only meant for Aurors and hit-wizards but Darius was sure the goblins never paid much attention to ministry guidelines anyway. According to Goreclaw, it enchanted with expansion charms, auto-summoning, anti-theft and a few more choice spells.

The trousers were a shade of green so dark, it almost seemed black. It was form –fitting and looked very sleek and deadly. The belt looed fairy normal, except for the basilisk-design made with actual basilisk hide on the buckle! The boots were made of the outer, scaly basilisk hide and in the same shade of poisonous green as the actual creature.

On top of this ensemble was a knee-length, dark shimmering green, basilisk hide, leather overcoat. It was just a few shades lighter than the trousers and looked fantastic. It was long but quite battle friendly. The upper portion was form-fitting and had three black belt-buckles in the torso region to cinch it tight in the torso region. The rest of the overcoat flared out to allow free range of combat movement. Acromantulan silk was generously used to set off the coat and give it a more formal look. Certainly a far-cry better than the utter joke that other wizards called duelling robes.

There was a scabbard made of the same scaly green hide as the boots at the back. It was paced across with the opening at the right shoulder. Of course, meant for the sword of Gryffindor.

The entire ensemble was heavily magicked with goblin enchantments. There were protective spells, on top of the already impressive natural defences provided by a 1000-year-old basilisk hide. It also had self-repair, auto-resize, auto-clean, temperature control and other utility spells.

The words 'Dressed to Kill' come to mind.

Anyway, Goreclaw also offered to have it blood-bound to Darius. The process would be the same as the one with the Grimoire but there were some added complications. The Grimoire, though a font of magical knowledge, itself had very little, in fact negligible amounts of magic. The binding therefore didn't have any negative influence on Darius. But the duelling robes were heavily magicked and thus not as simple. Though it won't have any effect when worn, it would eat up close to a tenth of his magic when it is sealed. That is the price of storing it using magical means. Of course, the percentage would reduce with an increase in his own reserves but the effects will be there regardless. But the advantages of having such an armour at the ready at all times was too much to pass up on and Darius consented.

The robes were quickly bound to him and he could have the robes on within a fraction of a second. It was extremely useful. He also felt the magic within me start to regenerate as soon as he put the robes on. He would lose a tenth of his magic reserves every time he sealed the robes but immediately start regaining them when it was unsealed. It seemed a fair exchange to Darius. The robes were extremely durable ang could easily shrug of most middle-tier spells without any effort. It would be a great boon in any combat, especially group fights were large numbers of spells flew around. Thankfully, the binding only sealed enough to account for the enchantments on the robes. The passive defences provided by the hide didn't really count, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to bind them even if he had twice the amount of magic.

His request to bind the sword was immediately shot down though. There were so many enchantments on it that even the goblins couldn't tell all of them. And there was no telling what all the sword had imbibed over the centuries. Trying to blood-bind it was almost certain to get him killed. According to the goblins, claiming it would have to be enough for him.

He did plan to use that particular property of goblin-crafted steel though. There was so much unused potential there. Imbibing it with the killing curse or a dementor were two things that sprung to mind. The basilisk venom, for all its lethality, still took a few moments to take effect. A sword that could kill with just a touch or one that could suck your very soul was a different matter though. So much potential!

Meanwhile, Sirius was busy with the Black account manager Sharptooth. He had last seen this particular goblin when he was in his early teens. He had left the family by the time he was sixteen and didn't really have any reason to see him after that. But he was the Lord Black now and he had to look after the family wealth. His mother had passed away only a few years ago and the accounts were not as bad as they could have been but there was still some work to be done. Also, in attendance was the Potter account manager Goldtooth. As Harry's rightful legal guardian, Sirius could also help him take care of the Potter accounts and thus the presence of the second goblin.

There were a lot of discussions about restarting businesses, collecting fees, clearing up old estates and so on. The Potter and Black families were both well of and their properties were extensive.

Sirius also fulfilled a childhood wish of his. He invited his favourite cousin Andromeda back into the Black family. He also invited her husband, Edward Tonks and daughter Nymphadora Tonks. They would get a simple invitation from Gringotts and if they agreed to it, undertake a blood ritual to reconnect them to the family magic. It was a momentous decision, only possible if the Head of Family gave an invitation personally.

He was also able to write of Bellatrix from the family. He held off on Narcissa and Draco for the meanwhile on Darius' advice. He said they may be able to come around in time. Seizing Bellatrix's personal vault had been a great pleasure though.

Harry had been taken to an elaborate room in a deep region of Gringotts. It was obviously a ritual room of sorts. There were a myriad number of ritual circles on the ground for all manner of uses. Sirius had wanted to come with him but the goblins were relentless in their refusal. The ceremony would involve an actual goblin shaman and they didn't get involved often. There rituals were secret and the lesser number of people who saw them, the better.

He was led to a small stone dais in one of the larger rings. The guards left him there and another set of goblins dragged in a cage with a small pig in it. It was placed in the adjacent circle. A veiled goblin dressed completely in white walked in after that and got to work immediately. Evidently, the goblin shaman.

He began reciting in his guttural goblin tongue and the place thrummed with natural magic. The two rings lit up and a thin stream of blood flowed from the pig and connected the two circles. Harry began to feel cold and realised all the energy, the very heat in the air was gathering together and strange runes of light began forming in the air. They seemed to gather around his scar, the connecting line between circles and on the pig. It was an amazing sight of magic.

And suddenly there was a shooting pain in his pain. And as soon as it began, it was over. He seemed to be floating in the air and he could feel the magic all around him. He could feel his magic and the single point with the foreign magic in his scar. As soon as he was cognizant of it, the magic reacted and an amorphous blob of dark grey magic was forced out of the scar. It slowly formed to show the malformed face before it was dragged screaming into through the connecting line to the pig.

He was free. He had never felt so good before. It was like he had been carrying the greatest weight for years and it was finally off his back. He could feel the magic rushing through his veins and it was glorious. He could never have imagined how much the Horcrux had held him back. A part of his magic must have been permanently sealed to keep it in check.

The soul fragment was dragged along with Voldemort's visage screaming and cursing inaudibly, till it reached the pig and was suddenly dragged inside. The pig gave one strangled squeal before it suddenly collapsed.

Harry was finally able to sit up and looked towards the pig. It took a couple of seconds before it got up again. It opened its eyes and they were blood-red. Unlike a human the soul fragment was able to take over an animal's body pretty easily.

A goblin armed with a battle-axe stepped up from behind at broke the cage open with one swing of the axe. The pig squealed and made a futile attempt to escape. The goblin made an unerring swing and decapitated it with one swing. The head was lopped off and the pig fell over with one final shudder. Another Horcrux down. Harry had felt rather defeated after finding out the lengths to which Voldemort had gone to secure his life. It had abated a bit after learning how much Darius had done but it was nothing compared to actually seeing a fragment of his soul destroyed before his own eyes. It was extremely gratifying to behold. He was led away from the dais and he saw a couple of younger goblins walk in and started cleaning up the entire area out of the corner of his eyes as he walked out.

Sirius was waiting at the end of the corridor.

"Harry! How was it? Was it successful? Did it work?"

Harry had to grin at the overexcited antics of his godfather. But he was deeply touched by the concern all the same. There had been few in his life who cared as much and two of them had just freed him of a heavy burden he didn't even know he had carried all his life. Though more of the credit went to Darius. The brotherly figure had helped him a lot since the start of his life at Hogwarts and this was just one more helping hand in a long list of others. He was truly grateful for what Darius had done. Though he was a bit grateful regarding the source of Darius' information, it was still credible; maybe there was some true seer involved or something. He didn't know and he didn't care, just the efforts he had put in for him and his godfather was enough to earn him a heavy debt. He had been in the court on the day of Sirius' trial and was in awe of the way Darius had got Sirius acquitted. Sirius had also told him of their conversation with the headmaster after the trial and it didn't inspire ant warm feelings towards the kindly looking old man. Darius was right, Dumbledore was plotting something here regarding that dratted prophecy and it involved him. One thing was for sure, he would have to be more careful around the old man and also further practice occlumency with Sirius.

"No need to worry Sirius. The ritual went just fine. The soul fragment was destroyed before my very eyes. That's another horcrux down. If what Darius says is right, we have only another two to worry about. We should ask him what we can do about those? The sooner we get rid of them the better."

"That's excellent, Harry! And I agree about the Horcruxes. The sooner they are destroyed the better. So far, including the one in your scar, four of them have been destroyed. The locket will be destroyed soon enough. There only remain two. Anyway, I've instructed the goblins to take their fees from my vaults. So, let's go and meet Darius now."

The two of them met with Darius in one of the waiting halls and were gob-smacked to see his outfit. It was nothing like they had seen. The outfit just seemed to ooze danger and looked absolutely built for fighting. Not to mention it looked far better than any wizarding robes ever could.

"Like the outfit? I had it made with the hide of a sixty-foot basilisk I personally slew last year. Anyway, let's get back to Grimmauld place. We have some more stuff to discuss before we are visited by Andromeda Tonks and the two of you have to leave for St. Mungo's."

Saying so, Darius started to walk towards one f the fireplaces while enjoying the gobsmacked faces of the Godfather-Godson duo and trying hard not to laugh out loud. By the time the brain of the two rebooted after that startling offhand comment, they hurried to rush after him just as he stepped in to the roaring green flames in the fireplace.

c 46

The three of them popped out of the fireplace in Grimmauld Place. Darius had just finished telling them the story of how he had gone after the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets alone the last year and they were stunned. They didn't seem sure if it wasn't some elaborate tall-tale or just another example of reality being stranger than fiction.

The next step was to fortify the house against any threats. The Black family were known for their paranoia and the house was fitted with the best wards of the time, which was unfortunately several decades ago. Warding and Ward-breaking had advanced since then and there was a lot of patching up to be done. Most of the job could be handed over to the Goblins, and that was one of the topics of discussion between Sirius and the goblins. But core permissions required a Lord Black. Unfortunately, Darius was not knowledgeable or powerful enough to put up the Fidelius Charm, it would have saved a lot of troubles. It was a tricky charm and successfully applying it was still a few years away. There was also the fact that a particular soul could only have so many secrets, it's not like a wizard could go around putting endless Fidelius, generally the number was around 7, though it could be higher depending on the aggregate magic power.

Sirius took them to the underground room even further underneath the cellar. It was a gloomy tunnel and they finally came out in a huge ritualistic room at the bottom. It was about a fourth of the size of the room in Gringotts but impressive nonetheless.

"Welcome, one and all, to the Black family's ward room. My dear departed mother would be rolling in her grave right now if she knew I had brought outsiders in here. In fact, I don't think she even knew that I knew about this room. Darius, once you are able to cast the Fidelius, you'll have to do it from here. That's the only way it will take hold on the entire house and not conflict with the existing wards."

The room had four huge cubes of rune-engraved stones in the corners and an absolutely massive cube of what seemed to be obsidian in the centre. It was full of blood red runes and had a magical aura that made it almost impossible to even approach it, it was so heavy and oppressive. Sirius went forward and slit his palm with a knife, letting his blood pool in a receptacle shaped like a stone basin in front of the cube. It took nearly a minute before the runes started flashing and Sirius backed up a little to heal his wound and take a blood replenishing potion. We knew something like this might be involved and were prepared. It was a necessity for actually taking over the wards instead of letting them act in their dormant mode. The rest could simple be completed in the study.

They trooped to the study to get it over with. The study was dusty but they took their places in front of the desk anyways. Sirius started fumbling along in the drawers behind the desk.

"Every magical family, at least the ones which are well off and have decent wards have a ward book within their homes. It is almost impossible to key any visitor through the multitude of wards on a house, so a work-around in the form of a ward book was created. The Lord of the family can enter the names of those whom he wishes to let enter the house and they are automatically keyed in.

Knowing my family, there may be some unsavoury people keyed into the wards and I want a clean slate. The Lestranges, my cousins Narcissa and Bellatrix and many others."

Sirius than proceeded to remove every name on the book with a swipe of his wand and then proceeded to enter the names of those we trusted. He was already in it as the Lord, Harry and Darius obviously, Andromeda and her family, Remus and Amelia. That was it. He could bring more people in but he had to enter their names in the book to give them permanent access. Darius thought it was a swell idea. Sirius must have allowed everyone in the Order of the Phoenix in last time because there wasn't much he could have done otherwise. He'll need to be convinced otherwise now. It was a safe place of refuge and there was no point bringing others in here. They could easily find another place to have their clandestine meetings.

"Sirius, this is great! You should be very careful with the names you put on that book. This will be safe place of refuge for you and Harry. Harry has not exactly had a pleasant childhood and your last twelve years in Azkaban weren't a cakewalk either. It would do the two of you a lot of good to spend some time together and I don't think allowing others in here would be a great idea, at least for the time being. You can obviously do so when you are back to full health and want to get friends over. And DO NOT let Dumbledore in here. That man has more plots than he has lived years and keeping this place secure from him would be a very good idea."

"Yeah, I get what you are saying Darius. In fact, the old man is lucky I'm not coming after him with my wand. But I promised myself that I'd stick by Harry if I ever got out of Azkaban and I'm keeping my promise."

Harry broke the silence after that.

"Hey Sirius, as far as I know the entire family of Black was known to tend more towards the dark arts more than anything else. How come you are so different from the rest?"

"Ah, Harry! That's because I am this epic man who was sent by god to cleanse the earth of the filth in my family. I am-"

"C'mon, be serious!"

"I am Sirius! Alright, alright. The truth of the matter is I don't know. I guess I never believed in that pureblood dogma since childhood and meeting the rest of the marauders and Lily just made me even more aware of the bigotry in our world. I just didn't want to be associated with all that. But you were right about my family. Right little bunch of evil bunch they are. In fact, let me tell you one of our secret stories that I read in the library when I was young."

"In the mid-1300's there was an illness that swept through Europe. While the numbers are rather different depending who you talk to, it is believed that somewhere between 75 and 200 million people died because of it. That would account for 30-60 percent of the European population back then.

At the time it was believed that the entire world's population was only a mere 450 million people so you can see what a huge impact this illness had in the world. Entire towns and cities were wiped out as the disease spread. It is estimated that the world population didn't return to their pre-illness levels till sometime in the late 1700's."

Around the table, Sirius could see their faces with looks of shock at the appalling loss of life the illness had caused. At the other end of the table, Harry's face had drained of all colour.

"This pandemic or Black Plague as it was called -"

"The Black Death"

Darius breathed out softly, his hand shaking and eyes wide in disbelief.

"You mean the Black Death was because of the Black family. It was your ancestors?"

"Unfortunately, it seems so. So, I will tell the story as I remember it.

In the first part of the 1300's, one Romulus Black, the current head of the Black family, was traveling through northern France near Valenciennes where he happened upon a young woman. She was Philippa of Hainault, the only daughter of William I, the then Count of Hainault.

The two fell in love almost at first sight. Romulus, traveling as a young, wealthy merchant at the time, asked the Count for her hand and was denied. Romulus was furious and was certain that Philippa's father had only turned him down due to his being an Englishman."

"The English and French have a long history of hating each other."

Darius had read about the French when he was studying about the Flamel's early life. They were instrumental in setting up Beauxbatons and he read up a bit on France other than that as well.

Sirius acknowledged Darius' comment with a slight nod of his head before continuing.

"My forbear would not take no for an answer and made several more requests, offering larger and grander bride prices each time only to be denied. Eventually, Romulus, along with all the English nobility, was called home to Court. Edward III, the King of England, was in the process of rebuilding England's forces after the disastrous rule of his father.

Romulus was a close advisor to Edward and beseeched the King to intercede on his behalf. I'm sure he felt that no mere Count would say no to a King, be he English or otherwise. Things, however, did not go as planned. There was war with Scotland, and the French were raiding along the English coastal towns. While on the continent to defend English territory, Edward had the opportunity to meet Philippa whom he had heard so much about from Romulus."

Edward was said to be smitten and married Philippa shortly after that. Hearing of the marriage, Romulus hurried to the cathedral with the intent to stop the wedding, only to be barred entry by order of the King.

Only after the ceremony had been concluded, and the marriage had been consummated properly, did Edward allow Romulus to see Philippa. There, before a small gathering of lords and ladies, the Queen of England rebuffed his affections. There wasn't much else she could do I would think. She was the Queen of England by that point, and it would bring dishonour to the entire country were she to admit to her love for Romulus.

For several years Romulus remained a broken man, until one day he just up and disappeared. The rest of the Black family searched for him to no avail. They knew he was alive as the Head of House did not transfer to the next in line, and large quantities of gold periodically were withdrawn from the Black family vaults. It was several years before he returned home.

"Romulus had been in the far east researching with potions and the magic of that region. The man, driven nearly mad from betrayal and a broken heart had done the unthinkable. It was rumoured that Edward himself was a wizard. There had long been magicals in the royal lines. Romulus had crafted a potion that he believed would kill Edward and Philippa. A liquid form of a curse.

Returning home so that he could be there when the royal couple perished, Romulus bragged to family members about how he had commissioned a beautiful silk dress for the Queen of England. Dousing the dress in the potion he created, he had sent it over the silk road, across Europe, to England. The fool didn't realize what he had done at the time.

The potion did not stay just on the dress but rather seeped from it and infected any magical that came into contact with it. Magicals, even back then were prone to travel abroad a great deal, all of which only aided in the spreading of this foulest of curses. Fully three-quarters of the world's magical population perished in less than a year's time. It was only a few years later that there were reports of what was later called the Black Plague coming out of the far east and Asia areas of the world."

"But it wasn't intended for muggles." Harry said.

"No, it wasn't," Sirius confirmed.

"It was targeted at magicals. It attacked their magic and then ate them from the outside in leaving a black discoloration of their skin. People took to calling it the Black Death due to that, with only our family knowing just how apt the name truly was."

"Regular people died in a similar manner." Harry offered.

"But how could a magical curse designed for people with magical energy effect non-magicals who have none?"

"If I had to hazard a guess, squibs."Darius speculated.

"While they are magical they are also as close to muggle as one can get."

"It mutated!" exclaimed Harry.

"Pathogens and viruses often mutate, becoming something different than they originally were. Romulus' curse must have altered and adapted to the squibs, and from there it was only a matter of time before it would infect the non-magicals!"

"My thoughts as well." Sirius replied, impressed with the young man's reasoning.

"In the end, neither Edward nor Philippa contracted the illness, so it was all for naught."

"What did Romulus do then?"

Harry asked almost fearfully. It was stunning to think that one man's jealousy and desire for revenge could account for such an incredible loss of life.

"Nothing!"

Sirius said with a finality that told them that the man's future did not bode well for him.

"Learning of what Romulus had done, his cousin Radolff Black murdered him and became the next Head of House for the Black family. The damage had already been done though by that time, and all they could do was to ensure that no one ever discovered what had happened. Only the family and only the main line at that, knew the whole truth of the matter."

That was a story for the campfire. To think one man caused so much loss of life over one woman.

But Darius was also rather curious about the Eastern poisons and magic that was spoken off. It just firmed his decision to go around the world when he was done with his business here. There was so much more to see.

They only had to wait another five minutes, as they pondered over the story before Andromeda appeared in the fireplace among roaring green flames. It was time for Sirius and Harry to go to St Mungo's.

c 47

Chapter 47: St. Mungo's

Harry and Sirius found themselves in a rather luxurious private room during their stay at the hospital. It was damn expensive for sure, nearly 3 times the cost for a normal ward, but the privacy and the extra-attentiveness of the healers was more than enough to make up for it. This was the sort of room the rich, old families used when one of their own had to go to the hospital; no slumming it with the plebeians for them. Harry wasn't normally the sort to throw money around like this but he did like to be the one to be pampered like this for once.

There was another reason for them to have a private room. The both of them were high priority targets for the reporters and they had no desire to be swarmed by those pests while on the sick-bed. Both of them were more than rich enough to afford it after all, though Sirius insisted on paying for both of them.

Andromeda had been appointed as their ward healer as per their interest and was doing a splendid job. She was extremely competent at her job and brought in other colleagues to help whenever required. She had been informed about Harry's home environment to some degree and it took Sirius and Darius' combined efforts to stop her from rushing off to hex the Dursleys. After that, though, she totally went into mother hen mode and started a full regime of potions for both her cousin and his godson.

Sirius had to take a strict regime of potions till the month and some booster potions even after that. The foremost were the nutrient potions which gave the body some of the necessary components to start building itself back together and the other potions to have their full effect. He also had to eat huge platefuls of food at every meal and even more in between meals to keep up with the energy requirements of the healing. The next were body healing and mending potions. They were the main reason that so much energy and nutrients were required. They would slowly build his body back to what it should have been. He had spent 12 years in an unpleasant environment with less than adequate food and sorely needed this to regain his lost vitality.

Next came the dementor exposure and mind healing potions. These were quite rare and took some solid cash to get a hold of. There wasn't much of a market for them, especially the former but they really helped Sirius' mental condition. He was slowly losing the hollow, haunted look he had carried since his escape from Azkaban and was finally starting to regain that mischievous glint and life in his eyes. It was even more striking than the changes the body potions bought and truly made him look alive again.

Harry had an even more extensive list to his name. He needed the same nutrient potions as his godfather. Eating at Hogwarts for most of the last two years had helped a lot but the minimal food in his childhood did have some effects and these would sort them out. He would never grow to his full potential otherwise. Potter men were quite tall and well-built and his mother was no slouch. By comparison he was rather weedy looking. The potions would fix that and add the needed muscles to his frail musculature.

A very important part was the healing of the scar. The horcrux in it prevented healing it completely and every interaction with Voldemort or his mental intrusions would leave them red and inflamed, preventing complete healing. But now that it was out, all that was left was to clear out the residual dark magic and heal the wound. Having it for so long, there was a faint impression of it left but no more of that glaringly obvious scar from before. Even that faint trace might disappear in a few more years.

Harry also had to get his inoculations for the magical set of diseases. There were a lot of them to go around – dragon pox, spattergroit, Black cat flu, scrofungulus and many more. Dumbledore had dne a very poor job as Harry's guardian by not dealing with all this long ago. Harry was very lucky to not already be afflicted by any of them. They were not exactly pleasant and the body didn't react very well to them. He had to take one of them about every three days and whined a lot about them. He did shut up when the effects of the respective diseases were explained to him in exquisite detail and quietly took the rest of the inoculations.

He also took the chance to get his eyes fixed. It was a simple enough process. He just had to take three drops f a potion in each eye and then have his eyes blindfolded for the next hour. By the time the blindfold had been taken off after an hour, he had perfect vision. This was the reason not too many people had glasses in the wizarding community. Only really old people or those who had reasons to wear enchanted spectacles would wear them. In fact, Harry didn't think he had seen anybody in his year who did wear glasses.

Though he was so used to them, he did decide to continue to wear glasses. But of course, it was a new, much more stylish pair he had gotten from a shop in Diagon Alley. He had owl ordered it from a catalogue from the shop Magic Eyes, a small establishment in the Alley. They were rectangular, frameless glasses with a multitude of charms on it. Owing to the size, there weren't too many of them but he got all the ones he wanted. There was an impervius charm, a self-repairing charm, clear vision charm, an anti-legilimens charm. There were certain limits to them of course, but they were useful nonetheless. The anti-legilimens charm for example, would not be able to prevent master legilimens like Dumbledore, Snape or Riddle from entering his mind, but they could no longer do so with just some wandless or passive legilimency. And even with their wands, he would be able to clearly feel them trying to penetrate his defences, no way would they be able to do it without attracting his notice anymore.

The last part was a pretty serious matter and was done in total privacy. Only Andi, Sirius, Harry and Darius were present in the room for it. Darius suspected there were a multitude of spells and enchantments on Harry and he wanted them removed. Andi had enough experience to do them. It involved a high-level scanning and diagnostic charm but all the occupants of the room were stunned when Andi announced the results of it, including herself.

There were a number of traces on Harry, on his wand and a few of his personal belongings. Darius immediately sent Dobby to remove any such spells and enchantments from the rest of Harry's possessions. He came back and reported that there were no fewer than eight more items which had such spells, including his cloak. Darius had always wondered how Dumbledore and fake Moody were able to see through a cloak that was supposed to hide the user from death itself. Turns out Dumbledore had tampered with it and attached a couple of beacons and tracking charms on it. Dobby got rid of all of it with a snap of his fingers and we all heaved a sigh of relief. Darius also instructed Dobby to do the same once every few days for both his and Harry's stuff while they were in the castle. No telling when the old codger might slip another spell on them.

Andi also noticed something else drawing on his blood and magical powers. It took some time but they finally managed to mark it down to two sources. One was from the direction of Little Whinging, Surrey and the other from the direction of Scotland, so most likely Hogwarts. If Darius' suspicions were right, they were likely the blood wards on 4, Privet Drive and the blood tracking charm used by Dumbledore from the Headmaster's office in Hogwarts.

The wards were easy enough to get rid of, Harry simply had to believe that was no longer his home. It was very easy for him and he severed ties with that place in a second. With Sirius living there, he was already more at home at Grimmauld place in the few days he had lived there compared to the decade he spent at Privet Drive. The blood tracker was a bit trickier though. They weren't sure how to go about it other than to physically enter Dumbledore's office and destroy the actual contraption, and that wasn't really a safe option. Andi thought there might be some old rituals that could do it but rituals were a mostly lost knowledge. It was very difficult to get any good information on them. Sirius did promise to look through the Black Library for them. He was sure there were at least a couple of them in there.

The medical regime was to continue till the day before they had to leave for Hogwarts. In fact, harry had to carry some more of the potions to the school, where he would have to have them on a scheduled basis. But no one could deny the effect of the potions. Both of them had clearly filled out more and Harry had grown by at least a couple of inches in less than a month. Though that didn't stop both of them for eagerly waiting for the end of the hellish potion regime. It seems that every potion in Britain was crafted for solely utility and designed to have the worst taste possible.

Meanwhile, Dobby and Kreacher had already started cleaning up Grimmauld place and making it fit for human habitation. Kreacher was getting along with everyone a lot better now. He was still looking forward to the destruction of the locket and knew it was only a few more days away. He was also happy to have his own Black family shrine. He was given one of the smaller rooms on one of the upper rooms and told to fix it up as a shrine. Sirius could give him all the stuff he wanted to get rid of and Kreacher would be happy as well. The first thing to be put there was the picture frame of Kreacher's dear mistress, Sirius' mother, Walburga Black. Turns out she had instructed Kreacher to stick her to the wall with elf-magic. That's why no one could get the frame down. But, now he happily removed the frame and took it up to the room. And the house was all the more pleasant for it.

Even Neville and Lupin visited during their stay in the hospital. Sirius was happy to hear Lupin get the DADA job and promised to drop by the castle to see him. Neville was a lot more confident now and had a good time talking to them. Of course, with his parents aloud he had a lot more support and a new wand gave a big boost to his magic. Not to mention, the DA classes were shaping him up to be a formidable wizard.

Finally, it came to the end of their summer break and it was time to head back to Hogwarts. Harry would be starting his third year and Darius his fifth, i.e., his OWLs year. He wasn't really worried about it but he did need to focus a bit more this year. Thankfully, there wouldn't be Dementors stationed all around the school this year.

Or would there?

c 48

A lot had happened over the summer. Darius had been extremely busy with his various projects but the end result was an extremely productive summer.

Though the rest of the people had been busy as well!

Midsummer Staff meeting at Hogwarts

Headmaster Dumbledore was presiding over the meeting and the rest of the professors had just filed into the room and arranged themselves on the table.

"Welcome to all the professors for the midsummer meeting. We will be having our regular pre-term discussion as well as meet the new professors."

Dumbledore was by no means as jovial as he sounded. He had been in a worried state since the hearing a few days ago. Sirius' behaviour was easily understandable but his incarceration was for the greater good. Of course, he hadn't known Sirius was innocent for sure but he had had his suspicions; he just decided not to act on them and let the situation play out as it was. It was the young counsel Nova who held his attention. The first point of worry was the utter lack of any trail to follow, despite his formidable number of sources and spies, nobody was able to tell who the man was. It was as if he popped out of nowhere. The man was a skilled orator and had a razor-sharp mind. Nova had been through so much in such a short while and Dumbledore was a bit worried about what that may entail. Not the fall-out per se, he was sure he had enough wiles and political-clout to not be bogged down by that but it was the effect he may have on his plans for Harry. But he would have to think more on that later.

"As you know, Professor Kettleburn is retiring to spend a peaceful life with the remaining limbs he still has and the post of CoMC professor is open. I am glad to announce the post will now be held by our very own Rubeus Hagrid."

There was a flurry of claps at that and several congratulations were sent Hagrid's way. Hagrid was understandably overwhelmed and quite happy.

"I would also like to introduce Remus Lupin as our new DADA professor I am sure he is a familiar face to many of the people here and his condition is known to them. But in the interest of full disclosure, the other professors should know, he is a werewolf."

There were some gasps around the table but it was a rather tame reaction, all things considered. Of course, Snape looked rather unhappy about it but the rest of the professors slowly settled down. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Madam Pomfrey, Snape already knew about this and the others were fine with the arrangement after considering all the safety measures taken.

The discussions for the next year got over quickly. Predictably, McGonagall once again brought up the Divination and History of Magic classes, just as she had been doing for the last several years. But Dumbledore shot her requests down, just as he had been doing for the last several years. He couldn't afford to change the status quo after all. It was him who had kept Binns and Trelawny around.

The reason he couldn't have a competent History teacher was around was because then the subject would inevitably turn towards recent history and the Dark Lords that plagued them. He wouldn't allow young, impressionable minds to be taught about the ideologies and wars waged by the likes of Grindelwald and Voldemort. That would only be a temptation. No, it would be far better to just learn about the goblin rebellions and be done with it.

Sybill Trelawny had to be here for her own safety. He couldn't afford to have her outside the castle's protections, where any death eater or Voldemort sympathiser could come after her. In fact, her presence would be most vital this year. He had hoped to influence young Ronald Weasley to pick Divination and get Harry to do the same. But apparently, he had overestimated the level of friendship between the two. He had seen Harry's subjects of choice- Ancient Runes, CoMC and Arithmancy. While an excellent choice for any other student, he really needed Harry to take Divination. How else would he be able to convince Harry about the seriousness of the situation and accept his destiny. No, Harry had to take divination; he would have to have a talk with Harry when term started.

The next discussion was regarding the new batch of prefects to be selected. Again, Dumbledore had a problem on his hands. The other houses would be just fine but he was rather leery about the male Gryffindor prefect. And just as he had suspected, Minerva chose to nominate Darius Icarus. He was the perfect choice after all, he had skipped a year and was still the top student of his grade. He was a diligent student, academically brilliant yet humble and ready to help others, excellent relations with students from all the houses and had done a fantastic job with the club he was running. And that was where the problem lay; he was just too perfect. He reminded Dumbledore of a young Riddle and that couldn't possibly be a good thing. The boy was a certifiable genius, but he kept to himself, charismatic, friendly with students from all houses and well above average power, if the couple of duels he had seen in the club were anything to go by. It might not be a good move to give him a taste of authority and power so early in life.

"-and the male prefect I nominate is Darius Icarus. I trust I scarcely need to provide reasons for the choice. He is beyond doubt the most suitable for the post. I am sure he will do justice to his role as a prefect."

"But the boy is doing extremely well in his academics. Might it not be better if he was not burdened with the responsibility and allowed to focus solely on his studies. After all, it is his OWLs year."

Dumbledore got weird looks from not only Minerva but even the other professors. Minerva gave him one last suspicious look before forging ahead.

"It is because he is that capable that we can trust him with the responsibility and still trust him to do well in his studies. If you raise academics as an objection, we would be left bereft of most of our candidates and the remaining would not be suitable for the post at all. And an appointment as prefect in his resume can only be a positive thing when he is applying for a job."

"I agree with what Minerva said, Albus. We give the responsibility only to those whom we feel can handle it. Darius is the obvious choice in his house. Do you wish to hold him back for some other reason, Albus?"

"No, of course not Filius! Forgive me, Minerva. It is your prerogative as Head of Gryffindor House to nominate your prefect. Please send the requisite letters to the students."

Dumbledore berated himself for his lack of tact. He must have been really frazzled after the hearing if he was making mistakes like that. What was wrong with him to try and force the situation like that. But he would have to keep a closer look on the boy. He had to ensure Darius didn't turn to the Dark Arts. Maybe he should take the chance to have a talk with the boy. It would be nice to suss out the young man's thoughts and motives. It would certainly help set his heart at ease.

Hermione was having a great vacation so far. Her parents had taken her to France and it had been an extremely scenic vacation in the gorgeous country. They had been planning the trip for a while now and she was extremely grateful for it.

France may not have had the long and rich magical history that Britain boasted of but it was no less magical. In fact, she liked the country better than Britain in some ways. For one thing, blood supremacy was not much of an issue here. There may be a few bigots around but nothing like Britain.

The magical avenue, Rue de la Magie was amazing. It was a long winding cobblestone path with a diverse collection of shops in the heart of country and basically the French version of Diagon Alley. It was not as quaint as the latter but still just as magical.

She had managed to drag her parents around the whole place and show her all the magical tools and curios, explain magical culture and basically give them a better insight into the culture their daughter had stepped into. Unfortunately, the Decree for Underage magic still stood and she wasn't able to perform any magic in front of her parents without French Aurors apparating in to drag her off to the Ministry. According to Darius, that would only be possible if they were behind some heavy wards or protections. Maybe she would take up Darius invitation to come over for the summer to stay awhile the next year.

Fred and George were so thankful that they ran into Darius on the train that day. The young prodigy had supported them unstintingly in their endeavours and they were just one step away from their dream job. Not only had Darius supported them financially, he also gave them awesome ideas for their joke products and helped them to create some of their trickier products.

Fred had just finished signing the lease for their new shop in Diagon Alley. They had been running the Mail order for over a year now and it had been a roaring success. They could barely keep up with the demand anymore. They had already interviewed a few promising workers who could who could share the burden of the manufacturing process and look after the shop while they finished school. They would obviously sign ironclad contracts first. Bloodfist could handle that.

George was reading the monthly statement sent by Bloodfist. He was the young goblin assigned to be their account manager after they finally had enough gold in their vault to merit one. Honestly, he was proving he be a god-sent. He took care of all the contracts, paperwork and the financial details for the business and they could focus more on their products. Bloodfist got a small percentage for his efforts and it proved to be a win-win situation.

Darius had sent a book on goblin culture when he heard that they had been assigned their own account manager and it had been an extremely fascinating as well as a useful read. Gblins were once a purely warrior society and though they no longer confined themselves to matters of war, they still brought the battle to the boardroom. Goblins were ranked in their society based on the amount of gold they handled for customers and what they owned themselves. That is why every goblin fought to control the old accounts which belonged to the older families and contained fortunes within them. So, in a manner of speaking, Bloodfist was in the same boat as them. If he did a good job, the Weasleys would earn more and increase the gold in their vault while Bloodfist would get a larger share as his percentage.

The twins got along well with the goblin once they were all clear on their goals and duties. Doing a good job would net Bloodfist a greater sum as well as enrich the twins.

Neville had not had such a pleasant summer since a long time. Last summer his parents had just been healed and it had been a dream come true for him. The same wish he had carried for the last decade had come true and he couldn't ask for more. Of course, they spent the summer recuperating fully and the healers at St. Mungo's kept them under observation extra-long after their sudden revival.

But this summer they had all had fun together. His parents and him had gone on a trip through various magical locations across Britain and he even got to collect an assortment of seeds and cuttings from the various greenhouses and herbariums they came across. They had had long talks after his parents' awakening and they were proud of his skill in Herbology. They had even commissioned a giant greenhouse to be built at Longbottom Hall, much better than the tiny one they currently had.

They had also helped him with his spell-work though they were proud of what he had already accomplished so far. He was a lot further along than most 12-year-old would be. Longbottom Hall, like any other of the old families' manors was extensively warded and he was able to carry on his practice over the summer. He credited his skill solely to Darius and the DA club though. His parents were very happy and encouraged him to continue to strive hard in the club.

Elsewhere, dark plans were being hatched and ominous events were being set in motion. Events which Darius had no idea about!

c 49

The long summer had finally come to an end and school was to start again in a couple of days. Darius was getting all his stuff ready, new books into his expandable trunk, stocking up all his potions ingredients, refilling all the ink and quill requirements etc. He did not know what exactly this year had in store for him but he was ready to face it head on. Freeing Sirius through the trial was the first major alteration he had made to the timeline and he didn't know how it would affect things.

It was on 31st August, the day before he took the Hogwarts Express, that the news broke out. The papers were plastered with the photos all over. There were interviews from several eyewitnesses and the story was explained in detail. Peter Pettigrew had ESCAPED!

As the news article went, Peter had been placed in the Auror department's temporary holding cell, where they got all the details of the incidents that occurred. The transfer of prisoners to Azkaban only took place once a month, so they had to wait until the end of the month. Minister Fudge had decided that he wanted to be the one to escort Pettigrew out of the cells, likely so that some more photos of him were taken leading Pettigrew by chains to bolster his public image. He brute forced his way into the transport detail by using his status.

But as it turns out, he goofed up big time. Not being a trained Auror, he did not activate Pettigrew's manacles properly and the anti-magic and anti-animagus cuffs did not activate properly. Halfway to the ministry exit, Pettigrew took the opportunity and snatched Fudge's wand. Banishing the man to the side, he took the couple of seconds the Aurors took to react while he got his cuffs off. Madam Bones had got there by the time and managed to blow Pettigrew's right arm clean off the shoulder along with the minister's wand but he managed to transform and scurried away to escape. The minister was carried away to Mungo's and saved though it was a shitstorm that awaited him after his discharge. The ministry and the Wizengamot was up in arms over this and Fudge's already minimal reputation took a heavy hit after that fiasco.

Fudge had to stand before the Wizengamot as a motion of no confidence had been called against him but he managed to barely scrape through. It was mainly the people in the dark faction who wanted a minister who was in their control and a large part of the neutrals who were either blackmailed or bought over by Malfoy money. But despite that he was on extremely shaky ground and he did the same thing as in the original timeline. In an effort to make it look as if he was actually doing something, he made the foolhardy decision to call in the dementors. Just when Darius was looking forward to a relatively calm year, the situation was shaken up again and the timeline was distorted again.

It was a disaster for Darius plans. He had wanted to deal with Voldemort with as little collateral damage as possible. He was already down four Horcruxes and one more would be destroyed once he got the locket to the school. He could have asked the goblins to do it but doing it in the RoR would yield him another Grimoire, something which was extremely rare and the more he had the better. He couldn't wait to get one more of these grimoires.

Pettigrew escaping a year early could have major consequences. If he went and re-joined Voldemort in Albania now, it could speed up the timeline drastically and that wasn't something he really wanted to see. Well, there wasn't exactly anything he could do about it anyway.

Finally, it was time to leave and Darius and his mother used the floo to get to the station. There was actually a room at the back of the station warded for only wizards and set up with a number of fireplaces for wizards to floo in. They were going to meet Sirius and Harry on the station as well and the others would join them on the train soon enough. Sirius had been extremely agitated for the past couple of days. The rat bastard who had sold out hi best friends which lead to their murder, the one who framed him and got him imprisoned for so many and kept him away from Harry had managed to escape. And it was all that incompetent minister's fault. He had barely managed to hold himself back from going to the ministry to rip that arse a new one. He was seething about the issue but there wasn't anything he could do about it. But the other problem was that it was even harder to go to Hogwarts now. With the dementors hovering all around the school, it would be hard enough to pass them without collapsing but they may even want to go after him, seeing as he was their former prisoner.

Darius was already wearing his robes when he was on the platform. Most wizards preferred to do so and after more than a decade in this world, he had gotten used to the custom as well. Pinned on his chest was the new Prefect badge that he had gotten. He had not been sure whether he would get it or not, what with Dumbledore's thought process but it seems there was nothing to worry about. He wasn't like Percy, all puffed up with pride but it was still a good feeling to wear the badge. Unfortunately, that also meant that he would not be able to sit with the twins or Harry, Mione and Neville as he had to do rounds on the train. It was one of his duties as prefect, at least for the first half of the journey, he would be able to join the others later.

They all got on the train soon enough and Darius headed to the front to get to the Prefects carriage. He had only heard about it and never seen this carriage before. He went ahead with his trunk and put it up on top of one of the seats. It seems he was among the first to arrive and the others had not gotten here yet. According to the letter from the school, there was to be a meeting with the other Prefects and the Head boy and girl on the journey.

The other Prefects filed in soon and by the time the train started the carriage was full. It was an extended carriage with no separate individual compartments so that all the Prefects could sit together. The head boy was Percy and he started lecturing us on all our duties in his usual pompous manner, though he was mostly ignored by the Slytherins. Eventually he was done with that and all the Prefects were told to patrol the carriages according to their schedule.

Darius went down the train, greeting all the students he was familiar with. He met the Patil sisters and Lavender who were pleased to see that he was prefect. He also met the trio of girls from the house team, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet. Those girls were already talking about the season's quidditch matches and even asked if DA classes would be continued this year. Darius peered into one of the compartments and found Daphne, Tracy and Blaise Zabini sitting together and greeted them as well. All three were DA members and knew me well. The twins had a compartment all to themselves and were poring over papers. From what he could make out they were trying to improve some of their Skiving Snackboxes. Thoe had become all the rage in the school since last year and were high in demand. Darius wished them luck and moved on. He woul return after he was done with his patrolling. Though the twins were endless in taking the micky out of him for becoming a Prefect.

Further along were Harry, Mione, Neville, Luna, Susan and Hannah. They were all talking about their summer vacation and the upcoming DA classes. They were pleased to see me and all of them had expected me to be the next Gryffindor prefect. Darius did warn them that the Dementors around the castle may try to board the train so they should have their wands ready to fire off a Patronus if needed. All of them could manage one, though Susan and Hannah could only do the incorporeal one. They nodded in thanks and decided to practice a couple of times. Darius moved along and reached the Slytherin carriage. Well, not that it belonged to them per se but they all liked to generally sit together, mostly to boast to each other. He just ignored them and moved along. Though he didn't buy onto the thought that every Gryffindor must hate Slytherins and vice versa, there were a lot of people who did and he didn't want to get into an altercation on the first day back. He finally finished his rounds and headed to sit with the twins.

The twins were still working on the snackboxes and Darius began to help them figure out some of their problems. They may be excellent potioneers but with his mother's training he was well beyond ordinary potioneers. In fact, he was nearly at the level to attempt the Potions Master exam. The problem with Snape was that he just gave out the instructions and did not expalin the theory behind potion-making at all. Why leech juice had to be given at a certain temperature only, how fluxweed reacted with other ingredients, the colours of the potions when mandrake was use, compatibility of ingredients and so forth. Without knowing all this, there was no chance of anyone ever becoming a Potions Master or even making any potions of their own creation. The twins were at least better than most of the school, in that they actually knew the basics and thus were able to whip up their own products.

It was when we were getting close to Hogwarts when the train started slowing down. The train jolted to a stop and then suddenly all the lamps went out. They were loud cries of surprise and people were poking their heads out of their compartments with their wands lit up to see what was the commotion. But Darius knew what was happening. The dementors were here.

The temperature in their entire carriage seemed to go down a notch.

"Fred and George, there are Dementors outside. We need to get rid of them. We can't let students get exposed to them."

"Right you are, Darius. We take one side and you take the other, I reckon?"

"Yeah, we'll do that!"

They faced down both ends of the carriage, the twins one way and Darius the other, back to back.

First Darius decided to warn the rest of the students. He cast a sonorus and began to speak.

"ALL STUDENTS, PLEASE CALM DOWN! ANY PANIC WILL ONLY ESCALATE THE SITUATION. SOME OF YOU MAY KNOW THAT THERE ARE DEMENTORS STATIONED AROUND OUR SCHOOL AND IT IS THEIE PRESENCE WHICH HAS CAUSED THE DARKNESS. THEY HAVE NO RIGHT TO BE ON A TRAIN FOR STUDENTS AND WILL BE SHORTLY EXPELLED. BUT IN THE MEANTIME, I URGE ALL STUDENTS TO GET BACK IN THEIR COMPARMENTS AND SEAL OR LOCK THEIR DOORS. ALL STUDENTS CAPABLE OF THE PATRONUS CHARM MAY HELP WITH THEIR OWN PATRONI. THANK YOU."

All over the train students heard the booming voice and quickly followed it. They had been all running like headless chickens and a firm order settled them for the moment. It also helped that the mere name of dementors shook up most of the people who knew about them and those who didn't were quickly informed by those around them. Doors to compartments slammed shut all over the trains except the few students who waited to cast their Patroni. There were a couple of upper years who were capable of it but the remaining 10 or students were all members of the DA. Other members of the DA who were incaple of it quickly barricaded themselves and shut their doors with a strong colloportus.

Meanwhile, the chill spread further and the dementors managed to enter the could hear some light screams down the train and had to force himself to concentrate when the dementors finally entered the carriage. There were two of them, one from each direction. The twins fired off powerful twin Patroni, both in the form of shining silver weasels and Darius sent of a swarm of three Patroni by himself. The weasels and the three cats rushed forwards and sent the dementors scurrying in no time. Multiple Patronus was a powerful bit of spell-work and three of them was just inside Darius' limits. The Patronus continued to charge ahead and rout all the dementors in their way. Darius could see bright silver flashes in the distance as well, clearly visible in the near complete darkness. Those must have been the other DA members casting their own Patronus. He couldn't have felt any prouder at that moment. With so many people working together, the dementors were forced away in a short while and the train lights finally came on. The train slowly started again and began to move towards Hogsmeade.

It had been a far more harrowing experience than Darius had expected. Casting a Patronus inside the safety of the castle or in his home was completely different than when he was directly facing a dementor. Luckily, he got off the spells while they were still a distance away. It might have proven to be a far more tough task had he delayed even a little bit more.

But Darius had thought that something like this might happen was prepared for it. He ducked back into the compartment and took out a bag full of chocolate bars. He went down the train handing bits of chocolate to all the students who looked a bit peaky, or pale or were shivering and told them to have it. Quite a few thanked him for the timely warning. He passed Remus on the way, probably going to the engine room and Remus looked impressed with him as he nodded to him in passing. Good deed for the day done, he returned his compartment, just as the train was pulling into Hogsmeade.

With a start to the year like that, he didn't even want to think about what the rest of the year would be like. But one thing was for sure, he may have a lot more students to train after this, especially for the Patronus charm. There was no way today evening's incident would have no reactions!

c 50

The Great Hall was just as beautiful as ever as the students filed in to take their places. A lot more students who he hadn't managed to meet on the train noticed Darius' Prefect badge and congratulated him. Finally, the students had all taken their places when the doors burst open and Professor McGonagall trooped in with a gaggle of first-years behind her.

Darius looked around a bit and gave a sigh of relief on seeing Mione sitting at the table. Despite all the advice he had given her last term, he was still worried that she might have taken on too many classes for her own good and be given the time-turner once again. Though that artefact might have eventually gone on to save Sirius from being kissed, it is by no means an object that should be given to any third-year, no matter how intelligent they may be. There are simply too many ways in which things may go wrong.

By this time though the sorting was over and as Professor Flitwick removed the stool and the Sorting Hat, the Headmaster had gotten to his feet.

"Welcome!", said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to announce and seeing that one of them is quite serious, I thought it would be best to get it over with before our excellent feast leaves you in a befuddled state.

As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is currently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on MoM business.

They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds and while they are with us, I must make it clear that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not fooled by tricks or disguises – or even invisibility cloaks.

It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I must therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the Prefects and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors."

"On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has consented to fill the post for Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"As to our second appointment", Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away."

"Well, I am sorry to say that Professor Kettleburn. Our CoMC teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I'm delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

"Well, I think that's everything of importance", said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin."

As usual, the golden plates and goblets before them filled with food and drink. Hogwarts feast was its usual grand affair despite the heavy announcement that was just made. Pates of sausages, baked potatoes, peas, carrots and chicken, tureens of gravy; it was a veritable feast. After a rather satisfying meal it was on to an equally elaborate dessert selection.

After all that, we headed to our Gryffindor common room and returned to our dorms. It was so comfortable to return to our own rooms. Darius got to practice his Vertentes, or magic channelling after quite a while. What with the hectic summer and all the planning he had to do, he was never in the correct frame of mind to do it and also needed his sleep to relax his mind. Now that he was back in the castle, he could set his mind as ease and practice peacefully.

Late that night, sometime past midnight a nearly invisible figure sneaked out of the tower and headed to the seventh floor. Darius had disillusioned himself and muffled his footsteps as well as he sneaked to the RoR. He did not want to carry the locket any longer than necessary. Why tempt fate? Anything could go wrong with such a dangerous object.

He took a couple of nifty shortcuts and reached the RoR in no time. Having the Marauders map for long periods had given him an excellent grasp of the castle's layout and its numerous hidden passageways. He walked past the door that appeared and entered into the familiar ritual room.

When he was ready to conduct the ritual, he called out to Kreacher. The old elf popped into view and looking at the locket, immediately understood the situation.

"Is young master going to complete master Regulus' last order? Will he destroy locket completely?"

"Yes, Kreacher! I am going to destroy the locket. But first we need to get it open. The reason you could not was that needed someone to speak in Parseltongue. Luckily, I have a work-around."

He drew out the magical recorder and played Harry's recording.

~Open~

The locket popped open and just as the shadowy tendrils began to take form, he started the ritual. He knew exactly how to conduct the process and got down right to it.

He placed the locket in the centre of the circle, a blank ream of parchment in the outer circle and took his place in front of the pedestal.

Powering up the ritual circle with magic, he felt a strong draw on his magic and read out the first incantation.

"Invocant in animam warda" (invoke the soul ward)

"Libera animam ex objecto" (free the soul from the object)

"Quod anima imprimit" (imprint the soul on the object)

"Relegant animae" (banish the soul)

The circle flashed and a hazy shape in the form of Riddle was drawn out and then shattered into a million wisps of darkness. The ritual was a success once again. One more Horcrux down!

And he had a third grimoire as well. If his understanding was correct, the order in which Voldemort created his horcruxes was something like this – diary, ring, locket, cup, tiara, Harry and Nagini. Making grimoires out of the last two would not be possible so the tiara Grimoire would be the most informational and that was the one he was currently using. He had extra grimoires from the diary and locket now, their value increasing in that order. He would have to consider who to give them, or if at all he should, very carefully.

He took the opportunity to practice his Cantatio as well. It had been a long while and he had slacked off enough. The magical music rung out through the room and you could feel it down to your bones. He was getting quite decent at it despite his lack of regular practice. As he was waving his wand and immersing himself into the music, letting his thoughts flow freely, an unbidden memory of the dementors came to mind and the music screeched to a halt. He had nearly forgotten about that. There was no way in hell that he was letting those memory-leaches anywhere near students. He had had the idea on the train but it was now time to put it in action.

He quickly whipped out a piece of parchment and began to write in bold writing.

Notice to all houses

An open session of the DA will be held on the coming Saturday. It is for the purpose of informing students in detail about the danger dementors possess and the means to fight them if you are faced with one. Students from all houses are welcome to attend.

Venue: Hall in the Eastern corridor of 1st floor

Time: 10AM-1PM

Darius used geminio to create four identical copies. Geminio charm was a nifty little charm. It could create copies of anything non-magical. Of course, magical objects could not be duplicated, the enchantments would not carry over. But non-magical items were a cinch. Of course, the duplicates would not last forever but they will still last for a respectable amount of time. After that, he also wrote out a letter to McGonagall as she was both his Head of House and the Deputy Headmistress of the school. He felt that she should be informed beforehand so as to not be caught completely off guard. Once he was done, he decided to call Dobby.

"Dobby!"

And Dobby appeared right away with a huge grin.

"Master Darius calls Dobby? He has work for Dobby to do?"

"Yes Dobby. You see these four parchments, I want you to put them up on the house boards in a very prominent location in each of the four houses common rooms. Try to do it silently and get out there before anybody notices you. Alright? And this letter is for Professor McGonagall, give it to her personal elf if she has one or ask one of the Hogwarts elves to deliver it to her in the morning."

"Yes, master Darius. Dobby can do this."

And with that he disapparated away with the papers. He was back in less than five minutes, looking very pleased with himself.

"Master Darius, I have done as you had asked. I put them on all the house boards. Is there being anything else you want me to do?"

"No, thank you Dobby. I appreciate the help. And I'm sorry to call you this time of the night. I didn't realize how late it was till just now. You can go back now."

"It's not a problem at all, master Darius. Dobby is being happy to help. Master can call Dobby at any time."

"Oh, one last thing before you leave, Dobby. Can you apparate me to my dorm? It will be much easier than sneaking back all the way."

"Of course, master Darius!"

He held my hand by my fingers and suddenly Darius had the feeling he was slipping through the cracks of a region and he found himself back on his bed. House-elf apparition must really be different than wizards. He got no sense of that uncomfortable squeezed feeling that one gets with wizards.

"Thank you, Dobby. You may leave now."

And he puffed out of existence. Darius really wanted to get started with learning apparition but there was still a long wait ahead of him, unfortunately.

He practiced Vertentes for the rest of the night and woke up extremely refreshed the next morning. His long-time training had really paid off. Along with the regular duelling practice which exercised his magic thoroughly, his own magic was growing and developing at a phenomenal pace. Magic was like a muscle, the more it was used, the stronger it would get. His magic was already well beyond the level of a student and reached the levels of Auror candidates. While he still had a long way to go before he even began to approach the likes of the professors, let alone Dumbledore and Voldemort, he was still standing heads and shoulders above the rest of his peers.

The next morning, all the early risers woke up and found the parchments stuck on their house notice board and read it. There was a very positive reaction as a lot of people had felt the effects of the dementors even at a range and had no desire to be at close quarters with one with no means to defend themselves. People had been very impressed with the DA last night and a chance to join the class even for a class or two, especially if it taught them to combat the horrifying dementors all the more appealing. The news spread even further by word of mouth and the entire student population knew about it by the time they came down for their breakfast.

Professor McGonagall was at the head table, deep in discussion with Professor Flitwick and Headmaster Dumbledore. Maybe she was discussing the DA classes. She caught his eye just as he was about to look away and gave him a small, approving nod. She must have been pleased with his initiative. Anyone who knew her at all would know that she was extremely protective of her students and even the idea of dementors floating just outside the school grounds must have been appalling to her. Darius even thought to invite her and Professor Flitwick to monitor the class. There was bound to be trouble when students of four houses turned out in large numbers and it would be extremely helpful to have them around. Especially since he knew that both of them could cast the Patronus charm, they would be great help in teaching the students who were having a lot of problems with the charm.

Anyway, breakfast time sped by quickly and soon enough it was time to join his classes again.


	10. 5160

c 51

_Harry,_

_I would like it if you could find some time to make a visit to my office today. It is located behind the gargoyle on 3rd floor. Maybe, around 8pm? I have some things I need to speak to you about. Looking forward to the meeting._

_P.S. I like sugar quills._

This was the letter that Harry had received at breakfast that morning. The loopy writing was easily identifiable. He had never been to the office but Darius had mentioned the location once and he knew where it was. Darius and Sirius had both warned him that the headmaster would likely call for him this term in order to discuss some things. He was not supposed to make any binding promises, enter into any contracts or give out information on horcruxes. Above all, he was to keep his occlumency shields up all the time and avert his eyesight from Dumbledore's whenever possible. Looking into his eyes directly for a while would make it easier for the old man to access Harry's memories.

Harry looked up at the head table and found Dumbledore looking towards him. He gave a short nod and then continued his meal. Dumbledore was also satisfied and returned to his conversation with McGonagall. Harry could have refused but that might have opened up a whole new can of worms and he didn't want to deal with that. Anyway, he knew this was coming sooner or later and the only surprise was how quickly Dumbledore sent the invite.

Darius' classes the first day back went just as he had expected. It was his OWLs year and all the professors spent the first part of their lesson with lectures on the importance of their OWLs and what effect it would have on their futures.

The first lesson for the day was potions with Professor Snape. Though Darius could not be called Snape's favourite by any means, the treatment he got from Snape could be found worthy of royalty if it was compared to the way Snape treated the rest of the Gryffindors. His early lessons with his mum where she insisted he actually learn potions and how ingredients reacted with each other instead of simply memorising the recipe was paying of its dividends. Today's potion was a particularly tricky one. The Draught of Peace could go dreadfully wrong if you didn't do it properly and knowing the actual basics tended to reduce the mistakes by a lot.

Before the lesson, Snape lectured in his usual biting manner, "I think it is appropriate that I remind you that you are now in your OWLs year and at the end of the year, will have to appear in an exam which will test everything you have learnt about potions in the last five years. As this will have a bearing on your future, you are expected to perform at your best and I will not have any of my students showing themselves to be morons... or they shall suffer my displeasure.

After this year, you will be entering NEWT level Potions and I inform you before-hand. I will only take students with an Outstanding grade into my class. Which means, many of us won't be seeing each other any longer. But those happy thoughts aside, I want your full concentration for the coming year. We shall practice the Draught of Peace today, a potion that comes up quite often in the OWLs."

After that it was an hour and a half of working on the fiddly little potion but Darius enjoyed it. Contrary to what was given in the books, students are not required to necessarily work with a partner. Darius had found that out at the end of his first year and had worked alone ever since. Snape seemed to have appreciated that and gave him no flak for it. Darius prepared the ingredients just right, put them in properly, heated the cauldron just right and did the stirring in the correct manner. He used his mother's technique to keep his workstation neat and tidy and keep the potion going continuously.

The instructions in the book may be correct but they were by no means the only method and certainly not the most efficient method. Darius' mother had taught him how to plan out his potion-making so that he was cutting his ingredients when he had the time to do so instead of just standing around waiting and then he had the ingredients on time before every step and so on and so forth. It was just a matter of prioritization and planning. By the end, he finished with 15 minutes to spare and his potion was releasing the light silver vapour that signified a perfect potion. He bottled it up and delivered it to Snape's desk. After receiving a od, he packed up his books and left the classroom.

Professor Flitwick set them to practicing the summoning charms which were almost a certainty in the OWLs after giving them the same lecture on the importance of OWLs.

"The OWLs exam is the first major milestone in your educational career and will define your studies and life for many years to come. You will have to work hard throughout the year to bring your skills up to snuff. As you should already know, the OWLs not only test your theoretical understanding but also your practical application of it. We shall put in our full efforts to be fully prepared whatever may come in the exams by the end of the year."

Professor McGonagall's class was not much better.

Professor McGonagall had said, "Transfiguration is both one of the toughest and simplest subjects we offer at Hogwarts-"

There disbelieving snorts at that throughout the class and some students took to giggling at that comment.

Professor McGonagall waited for silence before continuing, "As I was saying, transfiguration is the magical subject of imposing on your magic to change the form of one object or being into another. Through the years you spend at Hogwarts, you will cover less than 10 spells in this subject. The true test lies in how you choose to use the spells. Transfiguration is a matter of study, application and practice along with a bit of a creativity. Once you are able to imagine your desired object or aim quite clearly, you merely use the spell to force the object to change its form according to your wish. This requires adequate force of mind and magic. We shall start today with the Vanishing spell, _evanesco_, one of the magics that may prove to be a bit difficult, and practice it over the year so that you may be ready to use it in your OWLs."

Darius had no problem with that whatsoever, netting Gryffindor twenty points by getting it on his first try. He had first tried the spell nearly a year ago and was quite proficient in it by now, though not yet at the level to use it non-verbally. He used the time to practice it n-vbl and was getting it right as often as not. Professor McGonagall was extremely pleased to see that and gave another twenty points. Extra spells or proficiency were looked upon favourably in the OWLs and doing the vanishing n-vbl would be quite a big push to his scores.

Herbology was a breeze though. They were studying some of the more difficult to deal with plants in a new greenhouse but Darius had already gone through One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi and knew how to deal with most plants, at least the common ones. He was able to handle the screechsnap seedlings today with consummate ease.

It had been a long day and Darius gladly sat down for his dinner at the end of the day. Harry met him there and told him about Dumbledore's letter.

"There's nothing we can do, Harry! We already expected that he would try to speak to you but even I didn't think it would be quite this early. Whatever it is about, he must be quite anxious about it. I suggest you carry Sirius' two-way mirror and let him know the instant something goes wrong. In fact, let him know the details of the request immediately after dinner so that he isn't caught off-guard. If you have any troubles in the office, which I don't think you will but if you do, just call out Sirius' name and he can floo to Hogsmeade and arrive at the castle as soon as possible. I will not be able to help you here but as your legal guardian, Sirius' words will have some serious clout."

"Thanks, Darius! I was starting to freak out about the meeting. Dumbledore had seemed like such a kindly old man till last year but the number of inconsistencies about him that you pointed out are mind-boggling. He is up to something here and I don't want to be his pawn for it."

"Nobody likes being used, Harry. You just got to deal with it in the best way possible."

Harry settled down a bit after that. Though, he still had jitters about meeting Dumbledore privately, Sirius' two-way communication mirrors gave him a lot of comfort and he resolved himself to go ahead with it.

Just before 8pm, Harry walked up to the Headmaster's office. He had not been there before, seeing that he had not had any reason to do so in the second year during the basilisk incident. He reached the right corridor and immediately noticed the lone gargoyle. Darius had told him that the inexplicable reference to sugar quills in the letter was actually the password to the office.

"Sugar quills!"

The gargoyle leapt aside and a slowly revolving staircase was present behind it. He got on and found himself I front of a pair of oaken doors and knocked on it.

"Come in!"

He stepped inside and saw an expansive circular office. The walls were adorned with portraits of ex-headmasters who were all doing different things. There were a number of little silver contraptions on spindly tables and he noticed the sorting hat on the rack to the left. At the centre of the room was a large desk, behind which sat Headmaster Dumbledore, his twinkling eyes fixed on Harry.

"Ah! Harry, my boy. I was looking forward to your visit. Come, have a seat. Tell me, how was your first day back?"

"It was fine headmaster. I have long considered Hogwarts a second home and am very glad to be back. The lessons were also rather interesting and I am looking forward to the rest of the year. Though, I could have probably managed to do without the dementors."

"Excellent, Excellent! I also hope you enjoy your year. And I agree with you on the dementors. Those foul creatures shouldn't even be allowed near humans let alone children. But the ministry is rather anxious to catch Pettigrew, what with his rather public escape from their custody and saw fit to post them here. Though, I am assured it is only a short term posting and they will be removed by year end unless there is any evidence to the contrary."

"I look forward to the day. So, what was it that you wanted to discuss today, Headmaster?"

"I noticed that you have taken Arithmancy and CoMC as your electives. May I ask what prompted you to choose them?"

"Well, I was always good at arithmetic when younger and have some interest in learning about the working of spells and their creation, so I chose arithmancy. And CoMC because I would love to learn more about magical creatures. As you know, I was muggle-raised and hence didn't have any contact with such creatures earlier. I am interested in learning more about them."

"All admirable reasons, I'm sure but have you given any thought to Divination. I t may prove to be a useful study for you."

"Why would you say that, Headmaster? According to Darius the subject is only useful to those who truly have the Sight and desire to use and control it in order to become a seer. Anybody else would be wasting their time and are only there to get an easy pass."

Dumbledore was shocked. That was the first time that somebody had laid it down outright and what galled him was that it was completely correct. His own views on the subject were exactly the same and the only reason he kept Trelawny around was because of her first prophecy. Prefect Darius had hit the nail on the head here but that wasn't exactly comforting here. He needed Harry to understand the importance of divination.

"I agree with you to a certain limit but would it not be useful to learn about it to a certain extent. I truly believe that you may find that divination will play an important role in your life. Taking classes for it now may make it easier for you in the future."

"Do you wish for me to take the subject, Headmaster? If so, I'm afraid I must decline. I find two electives to be more than enough and eve if I was to take a third one, it would be Study of Ancient Runes and not Divination. Both my godfather and I gave ample thought to my electives during the summer and came to our conclusions. I do not wish to waste my time with a subject which is not even suited to me."

"Very well, Harry. If you must be so firm about it. I still hope you can give it some more thought and if you decide to take Divination, let me know and I can arrange for it to happen. Good night, Harry."

"Thank you for the offer, Headmaster but I don't believe I will be changing my electives. Good night."

Harry left the office slightly relieved. The meeting hadn't gone as bad as it might have. He had felt a light brush on his occlumency shields at the start of the meeting but it was gone as soon as it came. Likely, Dumbledore feeling out his mind but retreated as soon as he came across the barriers so as to not be detected. And Harry would not have if not for the extra help from his enchanted glasses. Well, he would let Sirius and Darius know nut it was better not make a big hullaballoo about this. According to Darius he does this on a fairly regular basis but there is no way to exactly prove it, seeing that it is only passive legilimency.

The night ended on a quite note and Harry returned to his dorms without incident. Darius was also feeling relieved. He had kept an eye on the spot marked as Harry Potter on the Marauder's map and finally relaxed when he saw him return to the dorms.

Darius wiped the map and proceeded to do his nightly Vertentes practice in peace.

c 52

Like Harry, DADA was Darius' best subject as well. He didn't let the lack of good teachers best him and used the extensive resources of the RoR to better himself and the added support from the Grimoire was a great help too. He was well beyond Hogwarts standards already and now the only thing left to do was to continue to learn more knowledge and get actual experience.

Like Snape had once said, "The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

And he had been all too right! New spells or newer versions of old spells were created every year. There were so many magical creatures out there that they were still unaware of. There were still some dark lords other than Voldemort in the world. Voldemort was a small fry compared to some of the greater dark lords. Grindelwald was a truly powerful one. He had been on the cusp of taking over all of magical Europe and had even set his eyes on America. Voldemort could barely manage to take over Britain. It was only his annoying habit of splitting his soul that was still keeping him alive. That and the countless dark rituals he had done to augment his powers. But that was still not his own strength and came with its own drawbacks. It wasn't like Grindelwald, who depended on his own strength and charisma to fight his battles. Voldemort just like to inspire fear and toss around unforgivables like they were going out of fashion.

Today's first class was to be DADA. According to the books Remus was supposed to be a decent teacher, though he did overtly focus on the dark creatures side of it. But of course, Darius was in his fifth year and the curriculum had to be different. He was kinda looking forward to it. It would be nice to learn from a decent DADA professor for a change, even though there was an excellent chance that he already knew whatever was going to be taught.

IT was double DADA first thing in the morning and all the students filed in quickly. Remus came in soon after and turned to face the class.

"Good morning class, my name is professor Remus John Lupin and I will be your DADA professor for the foreseeable future. I have already been briefed as to your previous teachers and realise that the lack of any continuity has left a rather gaping hole in your foundations. As this is your OWLs year, it is critical that you be brought up to scratch and that is what I shall attempt to do. Usually, I am rather partial to teaching more about dark creatures but I am also well capable of teaching you everything else you may need."

The class was silent and looked at him with rapt attention. This was the first time that a teacher had appeared to be even remotely competent and they were looking forward to see how he taught. And he was certainly not wrong about the lack of any sort of continuity in their lessons over the years.

"First I shall give a brief overview of how DADA is usually taught. There may be a few changes of course, depending on the teacher and a few topics may be discussed earlier or later than usual but this is the basic framework.

First year deals with the most basic spells. Minor spells, jinxes and harmless hexes are taught to the students. They will usually not used in any sort of fighting and only serve to buy time. Though I have seen some creative wand work which may use even these disregarded spells in fights. For instance, in a fight between you and a first year, if the first year manages to get you a tongue sticking hex, _langlock_, they would win the duel unless you are capable of n-vbl spells. They are also taught about the weakest classification of creatures, X, which consist of those few creatures which couldn't harm you if they tried.

Second year deals with creatures a little higher on the power scale, XX and XXX rated creatures. XX rated are still mostly pests but some of them can be a great bother and it is always good to know hoe to fight them. XXX is where it starts to get tricky. Many of them are capable of killing you or causing your death. They are usually the creature magicals normally encounter out in the wilderness. A well-trained witch or wizard could take one on easily. The topic continues to the third year as well.

Third year is a continuation of the XXX creatures. You will be taught how to defeat them or at least defend yourself from them. By this time, you should be at least able to do the latter. Rudimentary duelling lessons may also be provided, but that depends on the teacher. And even id it is, it will merely be shields, disarmers and stunners.

Fourth year gets interesting. We start dealing with darker hexes and curses and how to detect and defend against them. Some curses and counter-curses will also be taught. You will finally be capable of at least taking rudimentary care of yourself in a duel.

Fifth year i.e., the OWLs years will see a continuation of curses and duelling along with some basic warding. If you find yourself in a dangerous situation and unable to flee, it would be a wise choice to get to a warded area or erect one yourself rather than making foolhardy choices and running towards the danger itself.

Sixth year DADA will once again come back to magical creatures, those of XXXX classification. They are dangerous and most of them easily capable of taking your lives. The training is more for your ability to survive them rather than to defeat them. I sincerely hope you never encounter any of them in a hostile situation. It takes a team of skilled wizards to put down any of them. You will also learn some things about XXXXX creatures but all of them are far too dangerous to be actually brought into Hogwarts. You will only learn the theory for dealing with them, but my sincere suggestion is to leg it in the other direction if you catch a sight of them.

We also start to deal with n-vbl spells. They are a great tool in any witch or wizard's arsenal and very important to learn properly. You will notice most competent adult magicals preferring to use n-vbl spells. You will work your way through most spell that you have learnt in the past five years and attempt to do them non-verbally. It is a gruelling task but very rewarding. It also gets easier as you grow more accustomed to it.

Seventh year is generally not fixed to any particular topic and is up to the student's choices. Many of the more proficient students choose to take up apprenticeship during that year. Further research is always appreciated and students who also have proficiency with arithmancy, often take to spell-crafting."

The class had sat in stunned silence through that entire speech. They had never had the entire subject in such a concise yet meaningful way and it took a few seconds for it to sink in. It also set them to thinking about their various inadequacies and many of them realised with a wince, just how much they lagged behind. They would have to put in some serious effort this year to bring their game up to scratch. At least they had an actual DADA professor this year who knew what he was talking about.

Lupin then proceeded to put them through their paces and had them perform many of the basic jinxes, hexes and curses that they already ought to know about. It was a gruelling performance and many of the students were in a miserable state by the end of it, having seen just how much they lacked. None of them were put off by it though. At least they had a year to make up for it. If they walked into the exams the way they were now, it was doubtful whether they could pass.

Darius, of course, got it all right and Lupin gave an appreciative twenty points to Gryffindor. The real surprise were the Weasley twins though. They were almost as good as Darius and the entire class was awed. Darius had always known the two of them were hidden genii and this just confirmed it for him. But it truly was awesome to see them perform so well on the stage.

Because of the situation outside the castle, Lupin decided that Dementors were the first Dark creatures that would have to tackled in their studies.

"Many of you saw the dementors on the Hogwarts Express recently, maybe even felt its debilitating effects but you need to know about the true scope of its abilities if you ever have to face it. In fact, we have three of the students, Mr Fred and George Weasley as well as Darius Icarus here with us who were some of the few who managed to repel the dementors on the train. It was a praiseworthy effort and I hope more of you may learn to do the same come the DA lesson this weekend.

Now, on to dementors. Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them... Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself... soulless and evil. You will be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life.

If it is able to, it may even suck your very soul out through a process named the Dementors Kiss. It clamps the hole it has for a mouth on to the victim and sucks their very soul out, leaving them a husk of their former selves. They don't die but many would say their fate is worse than death. The bodies are merely husks with no soul or personality within them.

One of the few ways to repel these foul creatures is the Patronus Charm.

The Patronus is a kind of Anti-Dementor – a guardian which acts as a shield between you and the Dementor. It's also a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon – hope, happiness, the desire to survive – but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can't hurt it.

There are two types of Patronuses; corporeal, which means a Patronus with a particular shape and form and uncorporeal Patronus. Uncorporeal Patronuses have no particular shape and do not actively protect against dementors the way corporeal Patronuses do.

The ability to cast a corporeal or non-corporeal Patronus is down to the skill of the witch or wizard. Each Patronus is unique to the witch or wizard who conjures it, and it's possible, in some cases, for a Patronus to change.

To successfully cast the spell, one begins by mustering the happiest memory they can think of; the happier the memory, the better the charm will work. Alternatively, one could imagine a scenario that would make for a very happy memory. The next step is to begin drawing circles with their wand so as to increase the power of their spell. They must then say the incantation, Expecto Patronum; the Patronus will come from the tip of the wand and can be directed towards a target by pointing one's wand at said target.

The DA has already asked for the presence of a few professors for the open lesson on the Patronus charm and I am one of the few who will be present. I hope as many as possible students are able to pick up the spell as possible. As we are short of time today, I'll be ending the lecture here. Homework is a 1-foot essay on Dementors and the light magic involved in Patronus.

Chop! Chop!"

The students quickly got up from the seats and started exiting but they all seemed happy with the class. Remus was a competent professor and they had sorely lacked one for years. He was going to be very popular with the students.

c 53

Arithmancy was a breeze as always, but he loved the class all the same. There was something so fascinating about learning how a spell came together. Of course, most of it was the intent and magic power but there was a bit of intricate work tight at the core of any decent spell. They had worked on the disarming spell, _expelliarmus_ recently and it had been enlightening. Just tweaking the spell a bit could result in completely different effects. _Expelliarmus_ was designed to disarm the opponent i.e., knock their weapons out of their hands but a slightly different application would consider their hands or feet to be a weapon and affect them instead. Of course, it would not knock your arm of but broken bones were a very real possibility. And this was something a third year could learn to do, given some talent in the subject and just a bit of imagination.

To Darius' surprise, there was a very easy way to get a very good grade in the Arithmancy exam. He just had to create a spell model for a new spell, one which wasn't a variant of previous ones and had actual applications. _Fortis Memoriae_ was an excellent spell he already had at hand but there was no way he was letting that one out. It was already generous of him to hand it to Mione and he had had her take an oath not to reveal it to anyone without his say so. He would need to come up with a different one over the next year, one which he wouldn't mind being public knowledge.

Study of ancient runes was much the same way. He had been working on a single project since he made the runic recorder but he still wasn't close to success. It was an ambitious project to be sure but it would turn the wizarding world on its head. He had had some headway recently when he came across a book on Japanese magic. One of the topics there caught his interest and combining it with some of the Celtic ward magic he read about, he might just be able to pull it off. It was still a work in progress though and it would take quite some time to make it happen. He couldn't wait to see it completed. Though no way was he going to expose it to the public. This was a gold mine and he intended to be in control of it. Maybe he could sell it through the twins' shop?

Darius got by History of Magic and Astronomy solely on the basis of his _Fortis Memoriae_ spell. There was no way he could stay up through Binn's droning after all and astronomy classes were held at night, when he was sleepy anyway. If only Binns taught some of the more interesting material, History of Magic may have been one of the truly interesting classes. He often chose to borrow a book from the library on different eras of the past instead of paying attention to Binns' soporific speech. There were the settlement years before Hogwarts, the founding years of Hogwarts, the magical development stage, the renaissance, the forming of ministries, the withdrawal from muggle communities, building up of the modern magical community, the two recent Blood wars and so on. All peppered with plots, rebellions, wars and so much more. And what does Binns do? He drones on and on about the goblin rebellions.

Hagrid's CoMC class was actually pretty decent. We didn't have any arses like Malfoy in our year, that must have helped. But anyways, he brought in Thestrals for the very first class. Must have wanted to make an impression. And make one he did. They were rather mystical and Hagrid was known to have the only tamed herd in the country. The magnificent draconic creatures may have looked fearsome but were relatively gentle beasts and the speeds at which they could fly was unbelievable. Darius had taken the step forward when Hagrid asked for volunteers and had got to be the first to pet one and thereafter fly it. It was a bit uncomfortable at first but a minor cushioning charm made the ride far more comfortable. It was a good class overall and he enjoyed it. Hagrid may not have had the education he deserved but he had more than made up for it over the years, at least as far as magical creatures were concerned.

It had been an interesting first few days back and Darius had already got used to the school atmosphere again. He had started up his duelling practice about 2-3 times a week in the RoR again. The Grimoires were very useful for learning more about the subtle nuances of using spells during duelling. He may have the power to put any wizard on his arse but that doesn't mean he could do it. Magical power, prowess, knowledge and control all play an integral role in one's fighting ability. For instance, Voldemort is actually higher on the power scale than Dumbledore and knowledge as far as dark arts go but Dumbledore is ahead in terms of magical control and can therefore fight him on even ground. But Darius lacking in aspects when compared to these magical monsters. The only thing he could try to do was build up his knowledge and control, the power would come with time. Contrary to muggles, magicals actually get stronger as they age. He could glean knowledge from the Hogwarts library, the RoR books and the grimoire but control was something he could only keep practising.

Magic actually didn't possess any colour, the colours exhibited by spells was because of imperfections in it and its interactions with the atmosphere. If someone was perfect at a spell, maybe after practising it for several years or a spell itself required perfect control, it would be invisible to the naked eyes. That is the ultimate goal for any magician. The only spell Darius could think of which was innately colourless. Must be due to the delicate control the spell required, after all it was designed to completely control another being. He was nowhere near that level of mastery, in any of his spells and it could take decades before he would be but it would be a nice goal to work towards.

Finally, the weekend arrived and it was time for the open DA lesson. He headed to the usual abandoned hall on the first floor but when he got there it was a shocking sight. The entire hall was full other than the duelling platform in the centre. And there were yet more students filing in. Darius knew the dementors gave everyone the willies and expected a fair few students to show up but certainly not this. Bu his estimate the hall could take 100-150 students easily and there were even more than that present here. Looks like he will need to make alternate arrangements. Maybe the great hall? There was a lot of space there but he would have to be quick, there was a lot of space there but that was after all the tables had been moved away. And he would need to get permission first.

Darius rushed to McGonagall's office and caught her just leaving the office.

"Well, good morning, Mr Icarus, why would you be here at this moment. I was under the impression that you would be hosting your first open session in less than 10 minutes. In fact, I was on the way there, after all you will need somebody to maintain some semblance of control there. I believe that is why you invited me to the session."

"Yes, professor and I thank you for finding the time to come for it. But I have a different problem now. It seems a lot more people are keen to learn how to fight off dementors than I thought. The hall I had acquisitioned for the DA is filled to the brim and I need your permission to use the great hall."

"That should not be a problem. I am pleased more students are taking an interest in learning to defend themselves. I can give you the permission to do so on my own authority and don't need to go the Headmaster. Tilly!"

As she called out, a small house-elf, wearing a tea-towel emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest as a toga popped up and gave a bow to the professor.

"What may tilly be doing for you, perfessor?"

"Tilly, I want you and a few more elves to clear the Great hall for me please. I need the four house tables moved away as well."

"Yes, perfessor. Tilly will do that. Will there be anything else the perfessor needs?"

"No thanks, Tilly. You can go ahead with the task."

And said elf popped away after another bow.

"The elves will have the great hall spruced up in no time, Mr Icarus. Meanwhile, you should let the rest of the students know about the change in venue."

"Thank you for your help, professor. I shall do just that. I will be seeing you shortly."

Darius returned to the DA hall and saw it was even more crowded than before. There were already a few students milling about outside as the hall was jam-packed. There was no-way he could enter through that crowd so he took the easy way out.

Pointing his wand at his throat he muttered, "Sonorus!"

"ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS, THE DA OPEN LESSON WILL NOT BE TAKING PLACE IN THIS HALL AS THERE IS LACK OF SUFFICIENT SPACE HERE TO HOLD A LESSON. I HAVE BEEN GIVEN PERMISSION TO USE THE GREAT HALL FOR IT AND REQUEST ALL STUDENTS TO HEAD THERE. PLEASE MOVE CALMLY WITHOUT ANY RUSH OR PEOPLE MAY GET INJURED. THANK YOU."

The students slowly started filing out but Darius took the closest shortcut and made it to the great hall early. The hall was already prepared for the lesson and he just had to add the final touch. He had nearly forgotten until about a second ago. He pulled off a bit of heavy magic and conjured a duelling platform in the centre of the hall. It wasn't very difficult but it was a relatively plain duelling stand. He bet if McGonagall had done it, it would be a much grander affair. Whatever, he was a fifth year who had just conjured a 20-metre-long platform and he was pleased with it, the achievement was nothing to be scoffed at.

He stood on the platform waiting for the students to file in. First were the DA members who took their places together on one side of the platform. The rest of the hall filed up soon enough and the hall finally had close to 200 students in it. That's about half the school population. It was an impressive sight. The professors who turned up were McGonagall, Flitwick and Lupin.

He stood at the centre of the stage and the volume slowly died down. Time to teach these students how to kick some dementor ass!

c 54

Darius stood at the centre of the stage and glanced around at the crowd of students milling about. It was testament to how horrifying the dementors were that nearly half the student population turned up on a weekend, just to learn how to fight them off. Let's just hope that as many as possible had the necessary skill level to learn the spell.

Darius decided to teach them in the same manner he taught his group of DA members. There were already four in his group with corporeal Patronuses and a few more with the non-corporeal one.

"The Patronus is a kind of Anti-Dementor – a guardian which acts as a shield between you and the Dementor. It's also a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon – hope, happiness, the desire to survive – but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can't hurt it.

There are two types of Patronuses; corporeal, which means a Patronus with a particular shape and form and non-corporeal Patronus. Non-corporeal Patronuses have no particular shape and do not actively protect against dementors the way corporeal Patronuses do.

The ability to cast a corporeal or non-corporeal Patronus is down to the skill of the witch or wizard. Each Patronus is unique to the witch or wizard who conjures it, and it's possible, in some cases, for a Patronus to change.

To successfully cast the spell, one begins by mustering the happiest memory they can think of; the happier the memory, the better the charm will work. Alternatively, one could imagine a scenario that would make for a very happy memory. The next step is to begin drawing circles with their wand so as to increase the power of their spell. They must then say the incantation, Expecto Patronum; the Patronus will come from the tip of the wand and can be directed towards a target by pointing one's wand at said target."

So far, what I've said is the basic gist of what the spell is all about, at least according to the books. But I've a few observations of my own that I'd like to share.

The Patronus charm is a light magic, no doubt about that. But what makes it so? It's not the fact that is like silver light of course, but the fact that it is powered by positive emotions. Most magic is neutral in nature. It is when strong emotions or mental strength come into play that you have light and dark magic. Dark magic, the _Avada Kedavra_ for instance requires one to really kill the opponent. To wish their death with no mercy and it is these feelings that allow one to cast it. The Patronus on the other hand is fed with positive emotions and memories. According to many, including me, love is the strongest emotion of all. So, if the memory you use contains love, it is much more likely to be successful and stronger than other Patronuses.

What I'm trying to say is, instead of using memories like winning the Quidditch cup or something else inane like that, use happy and loved memories of your family, imagine marrying the girl/boy you marry, the love you have for you siblings and then power the spell with it. I guarantee it will give much better results than any other regular memory.

Now BEGIN!"

With that, the students reacted and started taking up positions. Half the students were to go to one side of the hall and wait for their turn while the others formed up in lines with ample space between them, kind of like in the apparition exams, and begin trying the spell. They would practice for a while and then switch with the waiting students. The Patronus was a tiring charm and they wouldn't be able to practice for long anyway.

The DA members who could cast corporeal Patronuses, Neville with a lion, Harry with stag, Hermione with otter and Luna with her hare, moved with the teachers among the rest of the students to help them along. But the rest of the DA members had to circle up around the duelling stand and continue to practice their Patronus. After all, if the rest of the schools is getting taught the spell and it wouldn't do to let them fall behind now, would it?

Students in the hall had started practising the spell and Darius just hoped that as many people as possible learnt it. He himself found dementors extremely distasteful. Every extra person on their side that could cast the Patronus was another person who could hold them off. Even a non-corporeal Patronus was better than nothing. At least it would hold off the dementor until more help arrived.

The professors moved swiftly from student to student, offering them advice, correcting their wand movement and so on and so forth. The DA members followed their cue and got to work immediately. They also began relaying their own experiences of learning the spell to make it easier for them. That sped up the process by a lot. It was always simpler to learn from peers than any other way.

Here and there, a few silver wisps were visible as people started to get the hang of it. It was heartening to see so many people working at it but Darius was still worried, it was a lot different when you are trying to cast the spell when faced by an actual dementor. Even he had had a bit of a problem when he first faced the dementor on the train. Maybe it would be a good idea to practice a bit with dementor simulacrums in the RoR. There he could face the actual debilitating presence of the dementors without any true risk. He would also be equipped to handle whatever memories came his way to torment him if he did so beforehand.

An hour was up and about a quarter of the students were at least able to cast the silvery vapour form of the Patronus. Wouldn't charge at the dementors but enough to buy someone time for reinforcements. And a quarter of the students was an impressive number. Guess, the desire to avoid any of the dementors effects were a good driving force.

The next batch switched in and started the same pattern of training as the previous. The Patronus was not a weak spell by any menas and took a lot out of someone. It was necessary to rest for a bit after casting it for close to an hour. Thank god they weren't training with an actual dementor or a boggart-turned-dementor or they would have to give out chocolate by the pounds.

The second group performed similarly. The DA group could all do the Patronus shield but Daphne managed a corporeal for the first time. Her Patronus was in the form of a graceful swan and nearly all the students in the hall turned to look at the graceful creature fly around her vicinity before disappearing silently. Daphne was overjoyed and she did it two more times just to prove it to herself. She was sent on helping detail after that and she joined up with Harry, Hermione, Luna and Neville in trying to help the other students with their Patronus.

Professor McGonagall helped Ginny to produce her Patronus which turned out to be a horse. Lupin helped Seamus to send out his fox and Ernie MacMillan managed his boar on his own. It was impressive display all around from the junior students but one of the drawbacks was that none of them could keep it up for more than a couple of minutes before they drained their magical cores. But impressive nonetheless. The older students, especially those sixth and seventh years had it much easier. Their magical powers were much higher, allowing them to practice for longer periods and cast the spell more easily. Quite a few, maybe about half, got the non-corporeal Patronus within the first day with about half a dozen getting the corporeal one.

All in all, it was a huge success. We had prepared a good number of students for dementors and if a few of them got together, Darius was sure they could send the dementors fleeing easily. The professors were pleased as punch as well. They had always been against dementors in such close quarters to children and seeing the children learning to defend themselves would at least alleviate some of the worry.

In fact, according to Professor McGonagall, Darius' teaching methods were praiseworthy and could be considered as teaching material, especially the last part about how emotions played a role in the magic. Even several Aurors on active duty have trouble with this spell and the Professor talked about seeing if she couldn't have a memory of the class sent over to the Aurors as reference material.

Darius was all for it. Nothing could be better than using the knowledge to enable more people to fight off those soul-sucking creeps. He gave McGonagall full permission to send it ahead to the Ministry's Auror department.

The open lesson finally finished just before lunch and the tired students trooped out to their dorms to freshen up. The Patronus was not an easy charm and the students had been undergoing the gruelling practice for hours now. The elves popped up and put the Great Hall back to rights, just before it was lunch time.

The professors were happy with the results but it wasn't enough. Darius talked it over with them and another DA lesson was scheduled for the following weekend. It would be the same as today and everybody hoped even more people would be able to learn the Patronus.

c 55

News of the successful class had spread throughout the castle by the end of the day. There were clamours all over the castle for a repeat lesson and students accosted Darius and other known members of the DA everywhere for more information on the next class and whether it was possible to join the DA after the open lessons were completed. It was a good situation and Darius let the news of a repeat lesson the next weekend spread throughout the castle.

But that was not Darius' main concern right now. He was busy plotting his next prank and his targets were the marauders. Harry had told him that Sirius was coming to Hogsmeade for the weekend and Darius suspected he knew why. Remus had met Sirius in the hospital and told him about getting the teaching post for DADA. Sirius must be coming here to join Remus during the full moon. And Harry's first quidditch match of the season was soon after, so he could come for that as well. Darius planned to shock them by joining them on their nightly jaunts. It would be a good prank to prank the pranksters.

Darius had also managed to avert the Buckbeak incident. He knew it would happen in the first class of CoMC for the third years and hung around on the grounds that day. It was a free period anyway and he could easily hang around and appear at the right moment to prevent the accident.

He did so and saw the class walking down to the grounds for the CoMC lesson. H had disillusioned himself, he didn't want to meet anyone and get tangled up in conversations. He had gotten a lot better at the spell after regular use and had managed to get the spell model from the Grimoire. It was an ingenious spell really and with his understanding of how light actually worked, he was able to use it quite efficiently.

He needed to be alert and have the right timing. He followed right behind the class and saw the lesson start. The hippogriffs were just as magnificent as Hagrid described and Darius was impressed. They also seemed to have caught his scent as he noticed a couple of the glancing towards him occasionally, though thankfully they didn't create a disturbance. Harry took Buckbeak and flew around the grounds before returning and it seemed things were going to go just as they had in the books, as Malfoy stepped forward towards Buckbeak.

Darius had had enough and he stepped forward after removing the disillusionment from himself. The other people had not noticed yet and their eyes had been drawn to the rearing hippogriff and the frightened Malfoy in front of it. He quickly snapped of a wandless summoning, _accio_, and Malfoy was dragged backwards by about 10 ft and came to rest in a huddled heap. Buckbeak stamped down but Malfoy was out of the area by the time and no harm was done. It was still a close call though.

Hagrid had run forward by this time and brought Buckbeak to heel by pulling on his tether. Hopefully this incident doesn't blow up like in the original timeline, Malfoy wasn't injured this time anyway. And Hagrid had lost his confidence after this incident, Darius vowed not to let that happen this time. Hagrid may not be the best teacher but he was far more knowledgeable than most and the genuine pleasure he took in teaching the topic was amazing.

Malfoy had sort of gathered himself by now and got off the ground, though he still looked like roadkill from being dragged across the ground 10 ft. The rest of the class as well as Hagrid had also noticed Darius' presence by this time and realized he was the one who had gotten Malfoy to safety. Hagrid gave him a sort of thankful look and turned to tether Buckbeak to a tree properly.

Darius used the time to turn the tables on Malfoy quickly before he could screw Hagrid and force the gentle giant to take the blame for his foolishness.

"Here I was, just walking on the grounds when I noticed your CoMC class. I was interested to see what you will be learning about so I decided to have a look. We had an absolutely fascinating lesson about Thestrals a while back. But here I see and idiot instead. What did you not understand in the sentence that Hippogriffs are proud creatures, Malfoy? Insulting a proud creature that can take your head off your shoulders was an idiotic move, wouldn't you say? You're lucky I was here, or who knows what might have happened. Anyway, I deduct 30 points from Slytherin for your monumental stupidity and I leave the decision of detentions in the hands of the professor."

"You can't do that. That great bloody beast tried to attack me. How dare you take points from me. Wait till my father-"

"Yes, Malfoy. We all know that your father will hear of this. But in the meantime, you shall face the punishment for the stupidity you have just shown. And I can take points of you because I am a prefect, who have the right to dock points if an action warrants as such."

Hagrid was visibly buoyed up as Darius had finished his speech. His first reaction had been terror. By no means did he want a student injured in his very first class with them. But Darius' words had rung true. There was nothing the professor could do if the students themselves weren't capable of learning and chose to take foolish risks. He quickly followed up on Darius' comment.

"And he shall have detentions as well. You endangered y'self and yeh classmates wit' yer actions. Yeh will have detentions with Filch for the rest o' the week. I hear he is lookout fer a student ta help him clean the astronomy tower. And 10 points to Gryffindor fer savin' a student from possible bodily harm. Darius, thanks fer the help, I got it from here."

Hagrid got the rest of the students on the hippogriffs and it was frankly a great lesson. Malfoy was not permitted to ride one though. By the looks he was giving Hagrid and Buckbeak, this was far from owner. He gave Darius a couple of dirty looks as well but Darius wasn't worried about that. There was nothing the Malfoy prat could do to him. He was a bit worried about the other two though. Hagrid probably will get off, especially since Malfoy wasn't even injured but Buckbeak might not be as lucky. Malfoy Sr. Had a lot of pull at the Ministry and he would be liberally throwing around the required gold to get the poor Hippogriff executed. Maybe, he could enlist Sirius' help later to sneak Buckbeak off the grounds at another time? Something to ponder over later.

The incident didn't gather much gossip in the castle as Malfoy's behaviour was well-known throughout the school. But it did alter the timeline by a tiny bit. Originally, Malfoy was to fake the seriousness of his injuries to get the quidditch match rescheduled. That not being an option now, the first match of the season was Gryffindor versus Slytherin instead of versus Hufflepuff.

Malfoy was seen cleaning the entire astronomy tower over the next week. It wouldn't have been so bad for him if he had detentions with someone like Snape but Filch didn't give a flying rats arse whether the ponce was rich or not, he just got Malfoy to work. It was hilarious really. According to canon, Malfoy did reform in his later years. Hopefully, he can take a lesson from this incident.

The next DA lesson was also huge success. It went much the same way as the first but the turnout was even higher. The people who had come for the first lesson had spread ample word of the lesson and many more people had turned up. This time it was much easier to handle as Darius had already been through it once and he just repeated it. At least half the DA had corporeal Patronuses by now and the rest could cast strong non-corporeal ones. Darius never understood why this was not done in the original series. It was a dead useful spell against the dementors and Lupin could have easily taught it to the class. Of course, it was an exhausting spell and would leave most of the younger students drained after using it but who cares about that when your soul is son the line.

The full moon was also approaching. Darius knew that Sirius had arrived at Hogsmeade but still wasn't sure if he would be there in the shrieking shack with Lupin. Anyway, even if his speculations were wrong, he could himself join Lupin in the shack. After all, the poor guy had become a werewolf because of Fenrir Greyback when he was a kid and never had an easy life because of that.

As expected, Lupin did not have the DADA class on the eve of the full moon. Must not be feeling well! According to what Darius knew, werewolves would often get violent shivers and spasms at this time as the full moon grew nearer, leaving them incapable of performing normal day-to-day tasks easily. Of course, with Snape here providing the Wolfsbane potion, Lupin should have a much easier time of it. Being an aspiring Potions Master himself, Darius knew about the potion and the difficulty involved in concocting it. It was a tremendously tricky potion and immensely difficult to brew correctly. Snape becoming the youngest Potions Master in the century was not just for show.

The night of the full moon, Darius sneaked out of the dorms and headed to the Whomping Willow. He levitated a small stone to the knot at the base of the trunk and watched as the huge tree suddenly froze in place. He quickly transformed into his ocelot form and squeezed into the hole at the base of the tree.

Werewolves were only a danger to humans. They attacked them on instinct and thus Lupin had to seclude himself on these days. With the Wolfsbane potion, he could at least keep his mind intact during the transformations. He only had to hide because a huge ruckus would be created if a werewolf was seen on Hogwarts grounds. And even the potion could not guarantee complete safety. There was still a chance, however small, that a werewolf may go feral and no one wanted a student to be at risk.

Animals on the other hand, were at no risk from werewolves. That is why James, Sirius and Peter were able to hang around Remus safely. Werewolves would not hunt animals unless they were beyond hungry. So, Darius would be safe as long as he stayed near Remus in his ocelot form.

As he traversed the tunnel, his superior senses picked out the unique hybrid smell of a werewolf and also the smell of a dog. It seems Sirius was here after all. Sirius also seemed to have picked up his smell and Darius could see him coming his way.

Sirius smelled a strange smell coming their way and rushed towards it. It would not do if a student was coming to the shrieking shack at this time. As he got closer, he could tell it was not a student but some sort of feline. There was something strange about the smell. It was sort of familiar but at the same time not. He felt like he should recognise this smell but he could not be sure what it was.

It was when the large cat came into his view that he realised what the familiar smell was. It was the unique mix of animal and human smell that humans carried in their Animagus forms. It was familiar to him from their monthly jaunts during their school years. And this cat was obviously an Animagus. First thing, he knew that this breed of cat could not be found anywhere in the close range. As well as the fact, that its gestures and movements gave an oddly human feel. Humans may be able to transform into animals but for those with sharp enough eyes, there were always tells that could reveal an Animagus.

Now the only question was, did this mysterious Animagus know what was further down the tunnel and if so, what were his intentions?

Darius was ecstatic. He had found Sirius as he had hoped. And now he could see a transformed werewolf up close. This was going to be awesome!

c 56

Darius' heart was pumping as he went down the tunnel. In his head, he knew that Lupin wouldn't hurt him but it was still an intimidating thought to be going near an actual werewolf, that too on a full moon night.

Padfoot led the way and they reached the ground floor of the shrieking shack. There were scuff marks on the floor leading up to the second floor, where he presumed Lupin was. Sirius instead led him to a smaller room in one side of the dilapidated cottage and released his transformation once they were both in. He locked the door and turned to face Darius, with his wand pointed at him.

"Alright, I have a pretty good idea who you are. There aren't many people who know so much about our merry gang of friends. But for the safety of my friend up there, I need you to release your transformation."

Darius sat back on his haunches and slowly released the transformation. He could feel himself changing and a second later, he was there sitting on the floor.

"Hah! I knew it would be you. No one else would be brave enough and yet dumb enough to do something like this. But I didn't know you were an animagus. Since when did you become one. My friends and I achieved it in our 5th year. Seeing as you are a year younger than 5th years, you got our record beat on the age front."

"I first transformed near the end of my first year. But I had been working towards it for quite a few years before that. I had picked up a book on animagus transformations when I lived in Hogsmeade and set my mind on learning it since. I have been doing the longest part of the process, the meditation required to identify and bond with your inner animal since then. I know there are animagus revealer potions for that but the book said I would have a better time of it if I did it naturally instead of with outside help. It seems to help you bond better and transform faster."

"Wow, we never knew all that. We didn't go the potion route either. We used mandrake leaves to enter trance-like states. So, I guess it falls somewhere in between the potions route and natural one. Anyway, I presume you came to spend time with Lupin. He'll be so happy to have you there. You should already know the prejudice that exists in the wizarding world against people like him so it would really help him if more people accepted him the way he is."

"Of course, I came here for that purpose after all. By the way, I have another piece of info for you. It seems you do not know, but there are animagus forms of magical creatures. We all get normal animals at first but magic helps us further transform. My form as an ocelot is fully mastered and I am close to achieving the next form. By all evidence, it seems it will be a Wampus. I started realising it when I practised Legilimency. They are able to use hypnosis, legilimency, walk upright and extremely fast and strong. If I'm not wrong, yours should be the Grim. They have a fear effect they can project with their eyes, the ability to phase through objects and hide in darkness. Work towards it. You just need to find the right magic to start the transformation."

You could have fit an egg into Sirius' mouth, the way it had dropped open. It seems he never knew about any of this. Well, he could start now. Darius didn't tell him but going by his animagus form's looks, Sirius was already half-way there. Maybe the stay in Azkaban with the dementors for so long acted as the catalyst to start the change. God only knows, there is enough death and desolation there.

Sirius managed to gather himself together and going by the look in his eyes, he was going to put his full efforts into this new side of his transformation he had not known about. Good for him, though judging by the amount of time it is taking me when I already knew about it, he is going to have to wait a long while.

Darius and Sirius both transformed soon after and Darius padded behind Sirius as they both headed up to the upper floor. Lupin was sitting in one corner of the room but his enormous frame was still intimidating. The movies really didn't do justice to werewolves. Lupin was taller by at least half again as he was in his human body. The werewolf form was relatively lanky but inside that unassuming exterior were extremely strong corded muscles capable of blowing away a normal human with a single swipe. He had wicked looking jagged teeth and gave a rather overwhelming presence, like he was announcing himself as a predator to everyone. Thankfully, one look into his eyes was enough to reassure that he was in his senses. They were the same gentle brown eyes that belonged to Remus Lupin.

Remus was extremely surprised. He had already smelt the presence of an intruder but he could not make out who he was. He couldn't even go out to stop the person as he had already transformed and couldn't expose himself now. He knew he could keep his mind but didn't want to take the risk. The thoughts of what might have happened when he and the rest of the marauders ran around the grounds and the forest still haunted him. He could smell something familiar in the scent but he wasn't sure about it. Thank god Padfoot was here, so that he could go and head off the intruder. But to his surprise, he could hear Padfoot bringing up the person to the first floor along with him. The door opened and Sirius entered in his Padfoot form as well as an impressive looking wild cat. It was powerful looking and bigger than most cats. It had the same look of intelligence in its eyes that was visible in all animagi.

It was when Darius entered the room that Lupin recognised the scent. The smell had gotten string enough that he could identify it easily. It was Darius Icarus, that prodigy student in the fifth year. He had been extremely impressed with the student's performance in the DADA class and his lesson on Patronus could be used as reference material for the Auror academy at Brighton. And the other teachers had only good things to say about them in their staff meetings. But an animagus by fourteen was amazing and he did it alone. At least the marauders worked together and supported each other to succeed. But most of all, he was touched by the student's gesture. He wasn't a fool, he understood that Darius sympathised with his plight and joined him on his most painful night like the marauders before him. And it also meant that he knew of Lupin's status as a werewolf and didn't oust him to the entire student population.

Lupin adjusted to the situation fast enough and they all sat on the floor of the shack. Sirius had been used to roaming around with a feral werewolf not this tamer version of Lupin. The wolfsbane potion was a relatively new invention. We just sat around and tried to communicate with signs and gestures. That is when it happened. It was like a part of Darius that he didn't know existed just became clear to him. His mind seemed to expand and a hazy nebulous feeling spread through his entire body. He felt as if he had just achieved the potential he was capable of. He was trying to communicate with the other two when he met eyes with them and that is what kickstarted the transformation.

Sirius and Remus were gob-smacked. They were just sitting there and whiling away the time when both of them felt a slight mental pressure on their minds. Seconds later, Darius' entire body seemed to become hazy and amorphous and as they watched it grew in size and stature until it was as big as a big cat. They could only see the silhouette of the creature making out its larger frame, sabre-like teeth and the gleaming eyes in the shadow. And just as soon as this had begun it was over. The haze settled and Darius was visible in his new form.

Darius in his Wampus cat form was much larger, about the size of an average mountain-lion. He had two long teeth protruding in the fashion of sabre-toothed tigers. He also had a heavier coat of fur and a large tufted tail. He could feel the pure power coiling through his body as he got up. He knew instinctively that his body could withstand most medium level and a few high-level curses as well with just its magical resistance. Add to that his immense speed and strength in this form and he would be much tougher to kill.

Darius then tapped into the power which started this transformation. He could feel the minds of the other two on the edge of his consciousness and he just had to reach out to make contact with them. Legilimency had never been so frighteningly simple for him. He may have been a Master Occlumens but sometimes he thought that training so one-sidedly in the defensive arts had curbed his potential for the more aggressive ones. He could still practice Legilimency and with his training to resist mental pressure in the RoR, he was quite powerful mentally but it was more like a troll brute-forcing his way in to a structure than the silent infiltration of an assassin. That was not what he desired. People like Dumbledore, Snape and Voldemort could rifle through people's memories without even them being aware of the intrusion. Whereas even someone with a modicum of training in Occlumency would be able to detect him though most people wouldn't be able to stop him. Anyways, with his new-found change, maybe he could take inspiration from the instinctive use of it by the Wampus and progress in his own skills. Though it was guaranteed to be a long and drawn out process.

Finally, he noticed the tensed features of the other two and decided to explain. Of course, he used his new power to do so mentally.

'Don't worry, guys. I'm absolutely fine! In fact, I'm better than ever. In short, I've managed to improve my Animagus transformation from a simple on-magical creature to a magical one. It is a very rare phenomenon which can happen when a witch-wizard has very powerful and pure magical energy and starts taking on traits of a magical creature. My change happened because of my level of Legilimency training and the usage of the mind in my Animagus form. Right now, I am able to communicate with both of you because of the Wampus' innate mind abilities. Sirius, as I already told you, I suspect you have the potential to be a Grim Animagus. Work hard and try to complete the transformation. It would give you some mighty useful abilities.'

Remus was taken aback. He was the most studious of the marauders and he had come across a single scrap of information about what Darius was speaking about when he was researching Animagi. It was exceedingly rare for a wizard and their powers to be able to meld with their animal forms well enough to access their next forms. Darius having completed his first transformation at a very young age might be a crucial element behind him succeeding. And Sirius' partial transformation could be attributed to the Dementors close proximity for so many years. A Grim's abilities were nothing to sneeze at. If Sirius could manage it, he would have a way to immobilize the opponent, to flee swiftly and hide easily. Plus, all the physical improvements. One way or another, he would have to convince Sirius to train further and see if he can't manage to fully turn into a Grim.

Sirius was in no need of prodding though. He could see the potential of the change and had already set his mind on acquiring this new ability. It could come in handy and he had nothing much to do nowadays anyway. He had met Amelia a few times since the trial and they had decided to get to know each other once again, so things were progressing well on that front. He had decide to go with his heart on this one and go wherever it took him.

Sirius had also decided to not re-join the Aurors after his release from Azkaban. He had been an excellent Auror before that night but the one-sided accusations had left him with no love for the department. How could he trust his back to people who would stab him in the back so easily. He was already working on getting his fitness back up to acceptable levels and maybe he could become a hit-wizard, the mercenaries of the magical world. With the dangers that his new job might hold, it would be very handy to have an extra card in hand.

'You just need to think in your minds and I will be able to hear you. But the two of you can't speak to each other, only to me. Of course, you can close of your minds with occlumency if you don't wish me to listen to something!'

'Darius, you got to convince Sirius to do this. It would help out in a pinch and keep him alive if he was in danger.'

'Alright, Lupin. But I think he was already planning on it anyway.'

'Sirius, what do you say? Want to try and do this? I can give you my notes on the process and the way to meld your magic into your animal form.'

'Hell yes! I am looking forward to this. And I would be very grateful if I could have your notes. They are sure to cut down a lot of time and effort.'

'Alright then, I know you are coming by for Harry's first match of the year. I will hand it to you then.'

'Thanks a lot for this, Darius. I appreciate it a lot. In fact, I can't thank you enough for everything you have done for me.'

'Don't mention it, Sirius. You have had a tough life and I don't mind helping you out a bit. Even Lupin wanted you to learn it. He'll be happy to know that you have taken to it with such enthusiasm.'

'Thanks, Darius. And tell that old wolf to stop worrying about me.'

'Lupin, Sirius agreed to try to become a magical Animagus. In fact, he is all for it. I'll give him my notes on the process soon enough and then he can start attempting it.'

'Thanks a lot, Darius. This means a lot to me. And I also wanted to thank you for joining us here today. There not very many wizards who would associate with me after learning I'm a werewolf. Let alone, keeping me company on my worst night in animal forms. So, I appreciate it a lot. You are free to join us whenever you want. Also, Sirius and I have a surprise for you. We'll talk to you later about it, but I guarantee you'll like it.'

'I can't wait for it.'

Darius and the other two spent a pleasant night and half-way through it managed to fall asleep in a large dog-pile. It was a peaceful night and they slept soundly.

c 57

It had been an exhilarating night. Darius had done a feat few could ever hope to boast of in their entire lives. He spent a full moon night with a werewolf. He had had a good time and was looking forward to doing it again next month. He and Sirius had even planned to try and convince Lupin to roam in the forest before then. Lupin had managed to keep his full mental faculties today with the help of the Wolfsbane potion and there was no reason they could not freely roam the forest next time.

The next main event coming up was the season's first quidditch match and spirits were running high at Hogwarts. With Draco not injured due to the Buckbeak incident, the first match was set to be Gryffindor vs Slytherin. The rivalry between the two houses was at an all-time high and small fights and scuffles broke out between them every other day. The only place the two houses ever met with even a modicum of civility was in the DA club. Darius had been very strict about the rules. Every member left the identity of their houses behind when they stepped into the DA hall. Any member bringing house squabbles into play would be immediately banned for an appropriate amount of time and repeat offenders directly kicked out of the club. And only a moron would risk getting kicked from a club where they learned so much yet had a lot of fun as well.

Malfoy's reputation in Slytherin house had taken a severe beating after the Buckbeak incident. Most of the members of the house had known he was planning something against Hagrid though not exactly what it was. But being the first student to be given detention by the gentle giant was certainly not it. Slytherins valued cunning and this was anything but. It had set Malfoy's plans to take control of Slytherin house back by a lot and he had to do something to redeem himself. Winning the match against Gryffindor would go a long way towards restoring his reputation and taking Potter down would just be the icing on the cake.

Darius was continuing to use the RoR regularly to train himself. While he could use the rooms inside his trunk to practice his Rune overlaying and crafting, the RoR was singularly suited to practice actual combat. And now that Mione actually knew some of his secrets, she often joined him for his training in the room. He tried not to get his hopes up and imagine she actually liked him but it was really beginning to seem as if she did. They were both very comfortable around each other and he noticed her giving him some long glances when she thought he wasn't looking. Maybe the best way forward would be to simply stop dithering and ask her out for the next Hogsmeade weekend.

Hermione herself enjoyed training in the RoR. Darius being there alongside her was just an extra cherry on top. Since he had taught her_ Fortis Memoriae_, she diligently went through at least a book every week. Her memory had been excellent before but this spell was on a whole another level. It had never occurred to her to get a eidetic memory, however temporarily through the use of a spell and she was awed by the sheer ingenuity involved in Darius coming up with it and then actually creating the spell.

She had been proud of her talents when she first arrived at Hogwarts but that went out of the window soon enough. Leaving aside the fact that it had alienated her from nearly all her classmates, she soon came across Darius Icarus, a veritable genius whose accomplishments far outstripped hers own. Yet he never held that over the rest of the students. He went about his business on his own and continued to excel wherever it mattered. Studying with him in the first-year had been a god-sent. She didn't have any friends then and it was nice to have someone intelligent to talk to. Plus, the explanations he gave her and the magical theories he taught her set a firm foundation for her future studies. She was having a much easier time grasping the principles of new magic. She was so pleased she had decided to follow him that day. It had led to finding out his secret and her screaming at him but he didn't hold it against her. In fact, they seemed to have grown much closer since then.

Girls usually matured faster than boys, they even entered puberty earlier. It was all the more applicable in the magical world, where all children matured faster, period. Maybe magic itself had something to do with that or maybe not but most people went through at least a few relationships while still at school and an early marriage soon after leaving the castle was relatively common. Hermione's feelings towards Darius weren't strange by any means. Both of them were 14 years old and even ordinary muggles got into relationships by then. And Darius' case was even simpler. He may have been nearly twenty when he died but he had had minimal social interactions before that, especially with the fairer sex. It was literally his first chance at a relationship and he had falen for Hermione hard.

The two of them trained together in perfect tandem. Both used the practice ranges liberally and read the various books whenever they were tired. Darius was training multiple aspects of magic in turns. He would practice casting down the long range, then duelling against the dummies, practice occlumency against the room itself and so on. Training his occlumency against the room helped a lot. The pure mental pressure helped him improve and hone his defences and it felt like he was fighting off a different opponent each time he practiced, quickly building up his experience in mind arts.

Mione had been stunned when he had first told her about occlumency and why it was useful. She was incensed that such an important subject was just being glossed over and not taught at Hogwarts. Since then she had started practising with a vengeance and improved rapidly at the initial stages. She was a middling level Occlumens now and still slowly improving.

The latest training Darius was doing was the disillusionment charm. It was undoubtedly a handy charm and practising it to a high proficiency would only help him in the future. The counterpart of the training was learning to identify when there was someone disillusioned in the vicinity. You never know when someone might be able to overhear something sensitive or secretive and got to be able to catch the clues and verbal cues that give away disillusionments. He had been pleased as punch when he had found 8 disillusioned people when he had trained this in the RoR for the first time. That was until he got to know that there were 20 people disillusioned instead of the 10 he had supposed. He had knuckled down right after that and started training seriously.

Mione and Darius were also learning magic detection. It was a way to detect magic in the surroundings and very useful for fighting against a greater number of opponents or when someone sneak attacks you. Adept magic sensors could even identify the spells being cast on them merely by the magical signature, though that was still a very long way to go for Darius before he got anywhere near that level of skill. It was also an effective aide for learning how to cast wandless magic.

One of the reasons Darius managed to learn wandless casting easily was because he had done it so early in life, well before he grew dependant on wands. He had practised meditation since a young age, making it so that he in close touch with his inner magic. He also used each incident of accidental magic to further get in tune with his magic. After all, accidental magic was merely wandless magic with bare minimum control. The official way to learn wandless magic was meditation, and long periods of it.

There was also the fast track method used by combat specialists were the used the ambient magic of wards to hone their sensing capabilities. Ward barriers would create a field of magic and repeatedly passing through them could give one the sense for the magical fluctuations in the air. It was just a matter of how much time it took. This is what Darius and Mione were practising now. Darius had skipped right past this step and never learned the useful skill of magical detection and Mione needed it to begin learning wandless casting.

The day of the first match finally dawned. It was a cloudy day and heavy rains were in the offing. The entire quidditch team was in a grim mood at the breakfast table, as usual. As far as Darius could remember, the dementors had attacked during this match, which led to Harry falling from his broom and the team losing the match. It would not go that way this time though. There were a number of people in the crowd capable of casting the Patronus and they would be able to fight back. Darius would still have to be on the lookout though, he was causing bigger and bigger ripples in the timeline and soon, it would be altogether different from the original. It wouldn't do to become complacent and get caught on the back-foot then.

The winds were really picking up by now and it was raining heavily by the time the match started. Darius had already charmed the player's robes and Harry's glasses to repel the rain and they had a much easier time of it in the match. He and Mione stood together in the stands and he had charmed the area around them to be clear of the rains as well. The match was going well but it soon became nearly impossible to follow the game, what with the heavy downpour.

That is when it happened, the eerie chill swept across the field and all the sound seemed sucked out of the surroundings as if it had been muted, announcing the impending arrival of the dementors. He saw them, coming across the field like a wave of darkness. Their combined numbers started affecting him far worse than the single one on the train, even at a distance.

_…__...He will never be able to leave a sterilized environment..._

_…__...He won't live past twenty..._

_…__...I'm sorry, but no one can help him now..._

_…__..His fate is in God's hands..._

As the negative diagnoses rang through his ears, he remembered seeing all the doctors giving up one by one, turning away from him. The pain in his parents' eyes as they watched him waste away. The scant few times he contemplated suicide. It seems the memories of his past life were not as gone as he would have liked. He had stopped himself from remembering those helpless days but these vile creatures had brought it all to the fore.

But, he managed to pull himself together with a monumental effort and force of will and refocused on the dementors. They were closer now and everyone in the stadium had noticed them by now. The situation was close to devolving into panic when a single bright light shone in the darkness and Darius fired off his Patronus. His Ocelot Patronus, which had grown in size further, split into three identical figures and charged the dementors head on. Next to him, Mione drew warmth from his Patronus and sent her own otter as well. Darius could see Neville sending his lion, Luna's hare, Ginny's horse, Daphne's swan, Seamus' terrier and so many more. The Patronuses swarmed the dementors instead and sent them packing.

Darius wasn't looking their way though. He was looking at Harry who seemed to be slipping off his broom. They had been just a few seconds late in driving away the dementors and their effects had hit Harry hard. But he was beginning to pull himself together when Malfoy zipped past him at a high speed. Harry was not stable yet and the sudden turbulence sent him tumbling off the broom from 40ft up in the air, his broom floating away in the distance.

Darius leapt to action and cast a quick hover charm to slow Harry's fall. A lot of people had screamed when they saw him slip off, including Mione and he could almost hear a collective sigh of relief when they saw him slow down and come to a halt just a few feet of the ground. Unfortunately, Malfoy seized the moment to catch the snitch and eked out a close Slytherin victory and there was nothing that could be done about it.

Darius, Mione and the rest of the team had rushed Harry to the medical wing. Madam Pomfrey declared he had just passed out and would be right as rain by the end of the day. Fred and George had gotten the remaining splinters of Harry's Nimbus after its collision with the Whomping Willow. Guess somethings just weren't meant to change though. Darius would keep trying his very best though.

There were some things he had to think through for the future though.

c 58

Darius wrote to Sirius about the entire incident as he felt he should know about it as soon as possible. Sirius could use his status as the Lord Black and Regent Potter to further pressure Fudge and make him toe the line. He also asked Sirius to send a Harry a Firebolt as a replacement broom for the lost Nimbus. He knew Sirius would definitely go for it.

He also asked Sirius to contact his account manager Sharptooth and the Potter manager Goldtooth to ask them to work together with his own manager Goreclaw to buy as many shares of the Bolt company as possible. He knew he should have thought of this earlier but he hadn't considered all the business opportunities he had before. Of course, he had invested in the Weasley twins which was definitely going to be a success but that didn't mean he couldn't go after other companies. Bolt brooms was new in the market which was still mainly dominated by the Nimbus and the Cleansweeps. It was not until the world cup in the coming summer that their popularity really picked up. Buying into the company now would be a sound tactical plan and could get great returns. Of course, all these gains would become negligible in front of the newest project he was working on, if only he could get it to work. The Japanese magic texts had helped and soon enough he would have an idea on his hands which could catapult him into becoming one of the richest wizards alive.

That done, he also wrote a letter to Goreclaw himself, informing him of his plans. It would not do to have his own manager caught on the backfoot now, would it? Money matters over with, it was time to ponder on the next and much more important task. How on earth was he going to ask Mione on a date? And before the coming Hogsmeade trip, at that?

He first actual DA class for the year was held the weekend after the match. There had been a couple of open classes for the Patronus but now it was back to business as usual. There had been several new applicants since the two open classes and their club's popularity had soared. It was known for the wide repertoire of spells taught as well as the strong inter-house unity it displayed.

Darius had finally managed to come up with a solution for the excess number of students in the club now. Taking in more students in the present groups would be too cumbersome and hinder their study rhythm but the new student couldn't just be turned away either. So, he would continue teaching only the core group and they in turn would teach their juniors. This way, it would work out more as a peer study group that a hierarchal club and that was much better in Darius' opinion. It would help the new students a lot and also let the old students remain in shape with their spells.

They started off the class with some basic practice and revision of last year's classes before moving on to the next topic. By now everyone in the DA could cast at least an incorporeal Patronus and moving ahead from there could be done by practising in their own time. Today, they would start learning the intricacies of battle-transfiguration and it would likely be their topic over the next several classes.

There was an immediate uproar after that was announced, especially from those not from the old families. Those from the old families still had some concept of what sheer power could be commanded by a skilled transfiguration master but the others, not so much. After all, how could they? All they were taught in Hogwarts was turning one thing into another, not the applications of doing so. And it wasn't Professor McGonagall's fault either. She was trained in the old ways and would have done the same for her students except for the fact that it was the ministry that made the curriculum and they wanted the general public unaware of such potent magic.

"What do you mean by battle-transfiguration?"

"How on earth can you use transfiguration to battle?"

"I understand jinxes, hexes and curses. I even get charms. But why transfiguration?"

Darius decided to put a stop to this post-haste. He could not have the students dissing one of the most important subjects willy-nilly and not giving their full-attention to it.

"I understand all your doubts, I really do. After all I had the same doubts when I first started learning it. Maybe it would help you understand better if I gave a few examples of its applications.

How would you react when faced with an unforgivable being fired at you? You can't block it with magic, and you might not have the time or the physical reflexes required to dodge it in time. Do you just roll over and give up? Of course, not! Your best bet would be to transfigure the ground into a shield or wall to physically stop the attack. If you are capable enough, you can directly conjure something solid into the path of the curse, another application of transfiguration.

Let's say you are faced with a superior magician. He/she knows more spells than you and has greater magical power as well. A simple way out of the situation is to use transfiguration as a distraction and take him/her out then. For instance, transfiguring a stone into a dog and getting it to bite the opponent from behind is pretty much guaranteed to get you the distraction you need.

There is a magical shield known as Aegis. A combination of transfiguration, conjuration and charms. I have been practising it since I first learnt it a while ago. Not to boast, but you all know my talent in the field of DADA but I still haven't managed to perfect it. Transfiguration is a subject you can't just master. There is always something you can improve further. Remember these words, not everyone who learns transfiguration is a powerhouse but every powerhouse is a master at transfiguration."

The students were looking at Darius slack-jawed as they heard and saw the extensive use of transfiguration personally. Darius had been performing the magical feats as he spoke of them, finishing off with the still incomplete Aegis, which despite that fact was an impressive sight. The Aegis he formed had several rocks rotating around him, serving as physical barriers along with several magical barriers, both visible and invisible.

"Fifty points to Gryffindor for a brilliant explanation of transfiguration and its battle applications to your peers, Mr Icarus. I hope you don't mind but I will certainly be using some of your examples to impress upon future students, the sheer versatility transfiguration is capable of. And another thirty points for an exceedingly impressive display of the Aegis, particularly admirable at your age."

Darius whirled around to see Professors McGonagall and Lupin on chairs at the corner of the hall. The various teachers had grown to trust Darius to teach properly and barely interfered in the classes, so he had nearly forgotten about their presence in the hall. He accepted the praise with a gracious nod but still couldn't help from blushing at the unexpected praise from the strict transfiguration mistress. It wasn't every day that Professor McGonagall smiled at and praised someone.

The class continued after that and everybody started practising their transfiguration skills. Most of the students were barely proficient at it though. Darius' long-term practice as well as frequent perusal of older books had developed hi skills to a whole new level compared to his peers. He had to continuously go around teaching and advising the other students. Even Professors McGonagall and Lupin joined in when they saw how much the others were struggling. Even Mione, for all her intelligence and skill was at a barely passable level, let alone capable of battle-transfiguration. He was firm with his words at the end of the lesson.

"You have all clearly witnessed me using battle-transfiguration and I'm sorry to say that all of you are, as of yet, very far from reaching this level. Transfiguration is all about application and creativity and all of you have taken this subject far too lightly. You need to think of the subject beyond academic terms. Have any of you tried transfiguring anything outside of what is taught in class. Of course not, or we wouldn't be having this situation today. We will be continuing today's pattern over the next few classes. Some DADA practice followed by transfiguration practice. And the next class will be held after a month.

I suggest you all use the time wisely and brush up on your transfiguration skills. You need to set a good example for the juniors you'll all soon be teaching. The newer members will have their lessons with you anytime in this month gap between our classes and I hope you do me proud."

Darius asked Mione to stay back for a bit and thinking that he wanted to talk about her transfiguration skills, she hung back a bit. The teachers left first and the rest of the students left soon after. Darius waited till everyone had left before turning to Mione. Unbeknownst to them, Harry, Neville, Luna, Daphne and Hannah were peeking from the slightly ajar door. Luna must have felt something so she hung back and the others followed her example. Seeing the two of them alone together, they couldn't help their curiosity and stayed to watch.

"Mione, I wanted to ask you something."

"Sure, what's up? Is it about my transfiguration skills? I never really knew how versatile it could be until today. Don't worry, I'll work hard to improve and put in as many hours in the RoR as needed."

"Well, that's great and I'd expect no less of you but that is not what I wanted to talk about."

"Well, what is it?", Mione asked, despite the fact that she had a feeling she knew what this was all about."

Darius took a deep breath before he continued. And then blurted it all out in a single breath. "IwaswonderingwhetheryouwouldliketogotoHogsmeadewithme?"

"Wh-what?"

"I was wondering whether you would like to go to Hogsmeade with me?"

Mione blushed a bit and asked in a small voice. "Like a date?"

"Precisely. Mione, would you please go on a date with me?"

Hermione couldn't help it, she squealed a bit. "That's a definite yes. I'd love to go with you. Thanks for asking me."

They both were happy with the end result and were grinning at each other like fools before it started getting awkward and Mione beat a hasty retreat after a loud goodbye. Unbeknownst to them, the five outside had heard nearly everything and were grinning widely at each other. Only a blind person wouldn't know they were both into each other and were a good couple together. There were many bets running on how soon they would go on a date and get into a relationship.

Harry was the first to speak up. "They finally got together! It was starting to get painful, watching them dance around the topic like that."

Daphne countered, "Yes, it's great that he asked her on a date but it's not over yet. He still has to ask her to be his girlfriend."

Neville also had to put his two knuts in. "It's only a matter of time. In fact, I don't get what took them so long. And they are acclaimed as the smartest witch and wizard of the generation!"

Hannah and Luna gave equally empathetic nods at that. All of them were rooting for the couple and wanted to see them together. They parted soon after but Harry and Neville hung back a bit. They had some planning of their own to do.

Neville began this time. "So, we go for it?"

"Yeah, of course. I mean, even Darius managed to ask out Mione, we should get our acts together as well."

"It's easier said than done. I tried twice and shrunk back at the last moment twice." Neville said, visibly depressed.

"What are you worried about? I've got it much worse. Think about my situation." Harry looked even more morose than Neville, if that was possible.

"Nah, that would have been true before the DA but we both got much better chances now."

"Anyway. Let's go for it soon. We have about a week till the Hogsmeade trip and the worst-case scenario would be if someone else gets there first."

"Yeah, we don't need others meddling in an already difficult situation. Best of luck!"

"The same to you. Let's hope we come out of this successful." Harry said with a final grin.

"Yeah!"

c 59

Darius didn't even know about all the drama going on behind his back and he wouldn't care even if he did. He was on cloud nine for the entire week and more than one person assumed he had been hit by a stray cheering charm. Mione was much better controlled in public but she had no fewer butterflies in her stomach. She knew this was a chance to go beyond just being friends and she didn't want to mess it up. Darius was a smart. Considerate and handsome guy with an off the charts power level. It also helped that he was just as much of a bibliophile as her and they got along swimmingly. She had caught several of the senior girls making googly eyes at him and she wasn't about to lose him to someone else if she could help it.

The two of them behaved mostly normally around each other over the next week except for the occasional shifty glance or foolish grin. They didn't let up on their magic practice at all though. Time lost now would not come back and the RoR was a priceless resource. It was also their growing years and they would reap the maximum benefits if they trained harder now. It would not only make their magical core far larger and stronger, it would also increase the potential for further growth over the years.

Darius had also told her about his wand when she had finally asked. He knew she had noticed long ago but he waited till she summed up the courage to ask herself. Most people only saw him using the White pine and Thestral hair wand but when he practised in the RoR, he always used his custom Yew and Unicorn hair wand. It looked much fancier than the one from Ollivander and that's why she had first noticed it. She was absolutely fuming by the end of the explanation. Most of these things were never explained to muggleborns and they had to muddle along with the Ollivander creations, never finding the perfect wand for themselves. In fact, other than families with old money or lot of information networks, even most wizarding families didn't know about this.

Custom wands could prove to be a huge help. Even Darius' first wan from Ollivanders, which had pretty high compatibility with him would only go as high as 70% or so whereas his Yew and Unicorn hair was at least 95%. Most people who got their wands from Ollivander didn't even get that 70%. Darius had to promise her to take her to Magica Altum, Caelum's wand shop so that she could get herself a custom wand as well before she calmed herself down. She was a perfectionist and the thought that she was limiting herself unnecessarily must have been abhorrent to her.

The week passed by quickly enough and the day of the Hogsmeade trip finally dawned. Darius was getting the jitters and had to spend some time to calm himself down before he changed into his best casuals and headed down from his dorms. Mione came down barely a few minutes later and he had a hard time taking his eyes off her, she looked gorgeous. The drab and frumpy wizarding robes were very concealing and the muggle jeans and hoody accentuated her looks much better. Mione seemed pleased by his reaction and pulled him along for breakfast. He would also have to see about getting her some basilisk robes similar to his made for her if things went well today. He didn't want to end up with a pretty girlfriend like her and then lose her to some random spellfire.

The two of them sat down together at the table and started their breakfast. Darius noticed many of the remaining Gryffindors and he couldn't help but blush. He had only come to know this last week that there was a betting pool running on his and Mione's relationship. And started by none other than the Weasley twins. There was something mortifying about knowing that the rest of the house knew about this before he himself came to terms with it and managed to ask Mione out on a date. They must both have been oblivious to their feelings.

Harry and Neville joined them just a few minutes later and they looked weirdly excited, almost as much as Darius himself was. Darius didn't pay much attention to them as he was more worried about how the date today would go but it came back to the fore of the mind when they were leaving the great hall. As they reached the entrance, they were joined by none other than Hannah and Daphne. Daphne stood by Harry and Hannah with Neville. It was evident that they were out on a date as well but mentally Darius was stunned. He even forgot about his own date for a second as he pondered on this surprising occurrence. Neville with Hannah was surprising enough but Harry with Daphne was a shocker! This truly showed that the ripples of his actions affected the timeline and everything was changing. With the Slytherin hating Ron by his chance and no DA till much later, Harry would have never got the chance to get closer to Daphne and get to truly know her. And Neville' parents awakening and his prowess in the DA must have boosted his confidence by a lot to ask Hannah out now. Anyway. The changes were all for the better and Darius had no problems whatsoever with it. The three couples walked down the Hogwarts grounds, earning a lot of stares from the surrounding people along the way before making it to the Thestral carriages to take them to Hogsmeade. Their dates had just begun.

They had a comfortable ride on the Thestral carriage to Hogsmeade though Darius was admittedly still weirded out by the Haphne combination a bit. It wasn't that he had a prejudice against Slytherins but it was just a bit weird. If they actually got together, they might be the only Gryffindor-Slytherin relationship in school. And what a combination it would be, Gryffindor's golden boy and the beautiful ice princess from Slytherin. But all pre-conceived notions aside, they would be a good couple who would perfectly match each other. And there was no need to mention the Neville and Hannah relationship. They were as close to perfect as one could get. In fact, Darius wouldn't be surprised if they had gotten together in canon as well.

Neville started speaking and proposed a request to the other two couples. "So, guys, I hope you don't mind but we kind of want to go our own separate way and explore the village together. We can meet up again later in the Three Broomsticks for a mug of butterbeer."

Darius was in immediate agreement. While he may like the other couples and was even a bit curious about their dates, there was no way he wanted them hanging around during his first date with Mione.

"That's perfectly fine. We can all separate when we reach the village. It will be nice to roam around with just our dates and have a nice time."

Harry must have been having similar thoughts because he agreed rather quickly as well. The girls saw no problem in it either and the three couples went their own way as soon as they reached Hogsmeade.

The first place they went to or rather Mione dragged him to was the Hogsmeade post office. Darius had been here several times when he was a kid and was very familiar with the large building. It was always an impressive sight, just seeing the large number of owls in a variety of species was amazing.

"Remind me again, why are we here?"

"I wanted to pick up some owl order catalogues. I spoke to some of the girls about the Hogsmeade attractions and they mentioned it to me. They are available for a variety of shops across Britain and allow someone to conveniently send in orders by filling the forms in. It would be so much easier to get hold of books from Diagon Alley or other things we need."

The next place they headed to was Scrivenshaft's for replenishing their stationary. He found a nice present for her there. It was an extremely regal looking, pure white, Pegasus feather quill charmed with all the required spells. She was extremely pleased with him and gave him a quick hug for his thoughtfulness. If that was what he got for being thoughtful, he ought to do it a lot more.

Next was the renowned sweets shop Honeydukes. The place was famous and everybody made the point to visit the place at least once every Hogsmeade trip to refill their candy supplies. The sheer number and variety of sweets available there was amazing. They also filled up their pouches with a choice selection of sweets. He had his own spatial bag and had already charmed a bag with an undetectable extension charm for Mione. Next was a peek at the Zonko's merchandise but that didn't take long at all. Mione wasn't really interested in the stuff and Darius found their products sub-par, especially compared to the Weasley twins. After all, they had hardly made any new innovations for years and were selling the same stuff for years. The twins' sales were picking up rapidly and their shop in the Alley was becoming more famous over time. It shouldn't be long before they start eating up into Zonko's market share.

They even passed Madam Puddifoot's and Darius briefly considered whether he should invite Mione in for a romantic setting. Surely it couldn't be as bad as it was on Valentine's day. One peek inside on the way past was enough to throw that thought right out the window. Valentine's or not, that place was truly cringeworthy and 2 trolls wouldn't be able to drag him in there. He quickly pulled Mione along and passed the shop in a hurry.

The next one was the shrieking shack. Darius didn't have much interest in the place as he knew the true reason behind its existence but Mione wanted to see it at least once. They were a bit tired after their hike up the path and they settled down to rest awhile by the edge of the path. He wasn't sure whether he should tell her about Lupin and his history but finally decided not to, it wasn't his secret to tell. They settled down on a sheet he conjured and rested comfortably as they watched the snow-covered scenery.

It was after a while that Mione turned to face him directly. She seemed a bit troubled and was biting her lower lip in that cute way she has when she is worried. "Darius, what made you ask me on a date today? Don't get me wrong, I am very happy about it but I've asked around a bit and you never took anyone else the last two years. Even turned down a few girls who asked, if the rumours are right."

That was a heavy question out of nowhere! Darius guessed she must be feeling insecure because of some reason. Darius had plans to see how the rest of the day went before even thinking of all this but he couldn't very well leave her hanging right now.

"It wasn't a snap decision or a pity move if that's what you mean. You have been the girl closest to me for over two years now and I wouldn't put that in jeopardy for nothing. I guess, what I'm really trying to say is, I've realised that I really like you and wanted to give a shot at being in a relationship. I was going to wait till the end of the day but I guess there isn't a better moment than this. Mione, would you do me the great pleasure of becoming my girlfriend?"

Darius had the fingers of his left hand crossed tightly as he held out his right to her. He hadn't planned to spring the question so suddenly and he was mighty nervous at the moment.

To his utter delight, she clasped his hand tight as she replied with a wide grin, "I would absolutely love to be your girlfriend Darius. I recently realized that you meant a lot more to me than I thought and that I had strong feelings for you and I am so happy you feel the same way."

They sat as they were, hand in hand with blissful smiles on their faces as they enjoyed the delightful view. It was close to half an hour before they finally realised the time and started heading back to meet the others at the Three Broomsticks. The others at the Three Broomsticks didn't catch the subtle change in their mannerisms but there was no doubt it would get out soon enough. The Hogwarts rumour mill was rather formidable that way. Everybody else had had a gala time at the village as well. It had been the first time for all of them except Darius and they weren't disappointed. They all had at least a couple of mugs of delicious butterbeer and were starting to head back to the castle in high spirits.

And that is when they heard the screams. They turned to see a horde of dementors moving towards Hogsmeade and students fleeing every which way. Darius noticed a couple of feeble incorporeal Patronuses but that wouldn't be sufficient at all against a small horde of dementors. As one, all six of them drew their wands and shouted out, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

An ocelot, stag, lion, otter, swan and a badger rushed forward and scattered the dementors immediately. Darius had his wand to his throat as he said, "Sonorus!"

"This is prefect Darius Icarus. All students head to the Hogsmeade gates near the carriage waiting area. The dementors have begun to rampage for an unknown reason and are dangerous to everyone now. All competent users of the Patronus, please assist your fellow students in driving off the dementors. Everyone gather at the gates together. ASAP!"

The crowd began to calm down as clear instructions were given and started moving in our direction. The six Patronus constantly moved around, fending off any dementors that dared to move any closer. Soon, another half a dozen or so Patronus joined in and another crowd of students joined us. This was a disaster and worst of all Darius had no idea what caused it. Nothing like this happened in canon at all. Harry had been right, Halloween really was cursed for him, something always had to happen on that day. Thankfully he noticed Professor Lupin and Flitwick coming their way and another couple of professors as well as Hagrid heading towards the village itself.

Darius moved forward to meet them. He had to get to the bottom of the incident!

c 60

Darius strode forward towards the professors who were rushing towards their group, both of them firing off Patronuses at the dementors to further repel them. Prof. Flitwick's Patronus in particular, was extremely fearsome and sent the dementors scattering with just its aura. No less expected from one of the most formidable charms masters in the country.

"I'm glad to see you got most of the students gathered together, Darius", said Flitwick as he gave a relieved sigh. "I shudder to imagine what those dementors might do to innocent children. Keep them together and safe for just a while longer. And keep up with the Patronuses, you lot. You are doing an excellent job with them and I'm glad to see those lessons paid off."

"Professors Vector and McGonagall are already on their way to the village and we'll be joining them shortly. We teachers will sort out the decision in short order and the we can head back up to the castle. It's better if we head back together. There are still a few dementors around the castle ground boundaries and we don't want any untoward incidents", Lupin added.

"Before they could hurry off, Darius quickly asked his question. "What's going on here, professor? This happened very suddenly and I'm not sure about the cause. Is it the same as the quidditch incident?"

"I'm sorry, Darius but we really need to hurry now. We need to repel the rest of the dementors and find any remaining students out there. There will likely be an announcement made when we are back in the castle." And with that professors Lupin and Flitwick rushed off.

Darius gave an annoyed sigh at the lack of answers as the two sped off but kept his eyes peeled and vigilant for any stray dementors. Most of the students were still in shock while the few that had been close to the dementors debilitating aura sat huddled and shivering from the cold. Darius found even Mione clenching his hand tightly. He gently squeezed her hand back with a smile and she glanced at him with a weak smile. They both started handing out some chocolate to the students to calm their nerves and get them over the worst of the dementor effects.

The professors returned a short while later but with a few additional people. There was Madam Rosmerta, owner of the Three Broomsticks, Gryffindor quidditch captain Oliver Wood, Head Girl Penelope Clearwater, DMLE head Madam Bones and two unknown people in official Auror garbs. Darius couldn't fathom what brought this combination on at first but there were a few clues. The presence of the DMLE head, Aurors and the dementor rampage meant a criminal element and right now it could only be Peter Pettigrew.

This did not bode well. There was no such incident in the canon timeline and Darius had to make sense of the events leading up to it before it escalated even further and blew up in their faces. It was no longer just a book he enjoyed but a living, breathing world with plenty of people he cared about. No was some cowardly traitorous rat going to harm any of his people.

They headed back to the castle shortly after, the adults splitting up between the carriages to ensure the protection of the students in case the dementors got out of hand again. Darius instructed DA members capable of the corporeal Patronus to do the same and they smoothly did the same in no time. Darius couldn't help but smirk at the gobsmacked expressions of Madam Bones and the Aurors at their efficient deployment followed by over a dozen Patronuses fired off to provide an escort for the carriages through the castle boundaries. While Darius' training may have made it seem a simpler spell than it actually was, the truth was far from it. Over half the Auror force couldn't even manage a proper incorporeal Patronus let alone the corporeal ones. Darius and Mione sat together in a carriage with some other 3rd years, the duo's Patronuses escorting them all the way back to the castle.

There was a grim mood at the Halloween feast that night. News of the dementor rampage had spread throughout Hogwarts and rumours were spreading like wildfire. They ranged from the likely reason that Peter Pettigrew was spotted to the collapse of the Ministry and complete loss of control over the dementors. The students were terrified and the whole situation could spiral out of control soon. Loath as he was to admit it, Darius realised the only person present in the hall who could completely calm down the students in the hall was the wizard seated at the centre of the Head Table, Albus Dumbledore. He stood with a serene smile and all eyes were immediately on him, the entire hall's population listening with bated breath.

"I am very pleased to see all of you here today evening for the Halloween feast despite the incident which marred the evening earlier. At the moment, all I can tell you is that the cause of the incident was the sighting of traitorous Death Eater Peter Pettigrew in the village of Hogsmeade. Unfortunately, he managed to get away before people capable of capturing him arrived at the scene. Nevertheless, it is only a matter of time before that happens. In the meanwhile, I would like to award each member of the DA 20 points for their part in protecting their fellow students and another additional 20 to Darius Icarus for his splendid handling of the situation in a moment of crisis."

There was a loud roar of approval at that and a thunderous applause from all four tables, especially from those who had been in Hogsmeade at the time. Despite himself, Darius couldn't help but blush and gave a thankful smile in the direction of the students. The headmaster continued after the sound had settled down a bit.

"I am glad to see your appreciation for Mr Icarus' actions and want you all to remember that we all have the potential to do great things in life, if only we commit ourselves to it whole-heartedly. Now, it is time for dinner and I won't keep you for much longer from the excellent feast which awaits us. Please put the unpleasantness earlier behind yourselves and try to enjoy the wonderful feast now. The feast may now begin."

All the plates magically filled up with food and drinks magically as usual, sent up by the house-elves working underneath in the kitchens. All the students dug in hungrily, tired after a long day and the horror show at the end. Darius also ate his food with equal gusto but his mind was elsewhere. He did not believe for one second that Dumbledore gave them the whole truth. The man never gave the truth straight out. The story had too many holes in it for anyone who knew where to look and seemed more like a hastily cobbled up story to sooth the students. But that would not do for Darius at all. If he was to make any difference in this world, he needed to get his facts straight so that he could see the way forward.

There was no way that a consummate coward like Peter Pettigrew would place himself at risk other than by a direct order by Voldemort himself. That meant he had met up with Voldemort and he was likely back in England in the Riddle manor with Babymort. Furthermore, he could easily sneak into most places in his animagus form but he was in his human one, another fishy occurrence. The question was, what was he doing here, so far from Voldemort.

Darius made up his mind to talk to Lupin later. He had been brought into the fold by Sirius and knew some of Darius' secrets. Lupin should be able to give him the full story. Or maybe Oliver Wood and Penelope Clearwater could, but they would likely be told by Dumbledore to keep the true incident shrouded in shadows for some inane reason like not causing a panic.

Though Darius might have done a lot of good by changing certain events in the canon timeline, it also distorted the timeline at the same time. Each time he acted, the ripples spread further and changed events even more. He knew he had a good head on his shoulders but he would really need to put it to good use now. From his perspective the fight between the two sides of the wizarding community was like a strategy battle between Dumbledore and Voldemort, both of whom were looking to achieve their own agendas but now, he was in the game as a third shadow player. He was tweaking and changing events to disrupt their plans but had to be incredibly careful about it. Either of the two powerhouses could destroy him with ease despite all his advantages.

Mione seemed to have sensed his brooding and gently clamped his hand. "Don't get so caught up in what happened today evening. You did your best and handled it in the best way possible. You were absolutely amazing out there and I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Mione! I needed that. I guess I was overthinking things unnecessarily." And he was. Mione's voice of reason calmed him down. He could only do as much as was possible for him and that should be sufficient for him. He had already changed a lot of things for the better. The only thing he had to truly focus on was getting stronger himself and protecting his loved ones. He was not going to lose his mother, girlfriend or any of his friends to a senseless war.

They had a peaceful dinner after that and retired for the night. The next morning, Darius finished his Vertentes earlier than usual and headed to the DADA classroom to talk to Remus. He had to know the true incident at Hogsmeade if he was to figure out Voldemort's scheme.

He knocked at the professor's door and waited till he heard a loud, "Come in!"

"Good morning, professor Lupin! I am here in regards to the Hogsmeade incident yesterday. I haven't fallen for Dumbledore's story and was wondering what really happened."

"Sigh! I was wondering when it would come to this but you straight out started with it. Fine, I know you won't rest till you know the truth.

In short, Pettigrew cornered Wood just behind the Three Broomsticks and was putting him under the Imperius. The last thing Wood remembers was a wand at his face and a cry saying, Imperio! Miss Clearwater was passing by the back alley and noticed someone with a wand at another person and was about to step in to arbitrate any arguments when she noticed Pettigrew. She recognised him immediately from the several photos of him which cropped up in the Daily Prophet after the trial and his escape and let out a large scream. Madam Rosmerta rushed out from the rear entrance of the bar when she heard a girl's scream and banished Pettigrew far away breaking the partial Imperius. She immediately brought both students in and floo-called the DMLE of the Ministry. Pettigrew must have already apparated away by the time and the Aurors were too late. Unfortunately, the dementors were close to where Pettigrew was banished and saw him before his apparition. They immediately set to chase him down and when he disapparated away, set upon the nearest human inhabitation, Hogsmeade. You already know the rest.

Mister Wood was extensively questioned but he was woozy for the most part and can only say that he was being instructions to do something and it involved blood. We are pretty sure it was something to do with shed blood so are working on the assumption that he wanted to start a bloodbath within Hogwarts for reasons unknown."

Darius' mind went into hyperdrive after that...most people assumed Voldemort was dead so they considered the rat to be working on his own... but the real instructions were certainly from the Dark tosser... imperius someone and something involving blood... he is getting someone to shed Harry Potter's blood to resurrect his master! It was so obvious! The Ceremony of Bone, Flesh and Blood required the blood of an enemy and he would definitely choose Harry. Events have changed enough that the events from a year later may occur now. Bertha Jorkins was never found by them in Albania, since that happens just before the summer and Pettigrew didn't really have any contacts, so Voldemort didn't know of the Triwizard Cup and couldn't form a plan around it. It certainly made sense and seemed the likely explanation. The ceremony only required Harry's blood to be taken against his will and that was likely the reason Pettigrew didn't simply let lose a severing charm and collect the blood.

This is not good, once Babymort knows his first attempt has been thwarted, there is no way he will simply give up. There will definitely be a repeat attempt and Darius will have to be on the lookout for that. But ominous plans aside, it was a great relief to know what the actual plans were, or at least get a pretty accurate guess at it. They will definitely lay low for a while after this attempt and Darius would have some breathing space. He will definitely need to step up his training.


	11. 6168

c 61

The fallout from the Dementor incident was not as bad as Darius could have hoped. He thought something like this would be enough to tip the scales and kick Fudge out of his office. Sadly, he managed to wriggle his way out of because the appearance of Pettigrew seemed to give credence to his stance. Also, Lucius' deep pockets and blackmail helped as well. But Sirius was chomping at the bit and it wouldn't take too long to start making changes in the Wizengamot. By no means did he want most of those bigots and doddering old fools in those seats if Voldemort rose back to power.

Darius' relationship with Mione was still going strong. Not much had changed between the two for now. They were still hanging out together almost all the time and practising together in the RoR. Other than the hand-holding and the occasional kiss, they behaved in the same way. But they never grew tired of each other's company and had spent time with each other as much as possible.

Darius was practising in the RoR as usual when he was struck by the headache again. It had already been nearly a month from the Dementor incident and this problem had started a few days after that. He would get sporadic headaches and mood swings every once in a while and could do nothing about it. The only time he was completely free of it was when he was doing his daily Vertentes or he had his occlumency shields at full strength. Mione had realised his problems sometime last week and would pester him to go to the hospital wing every time she noticed it. But he had to be sure of the source first. The effectiveness of occlumency against it suggests that some outside force is behind it and the headaches are not exactly normal.

Instead of suppressing it with Occlumency, he loosened the barriers and let some of the probes reach his mind. He knew it was a risk, but it may also give a clue as to the perpetrator. It would take a highly skilled Legilimens to break into his mind and he could have his shields in place in a jiffy. But the constant pressure was wearing on him and he had to do something about it.

The defences of his mind lowered, he could sense multiple sources for the intrusion. That was a utter surprise, it felt more like a hive mind nudging against his consciousness rather than someone trying to enter his. He further let down his defences and then he felt it.

Happiness, hope, attraction, sadness, anger, fear, love, trust and so much more. It was like a plethora of feelings out there in the void with him in the centre of it all. The emotions were coming every which way and the more he became cognizant of them, the more they seemed to reach out to him. He wanted to raise his defences, but he was unable to, his very mind rebelling against it, as if this was something it was supposed to go through. But at the same time, the rapid influx of emotions and weight of several minds was wearing on his own and was proving to be almost debilitating before a certain limit was reached and his magic just rushed into his brain and got deeply infused into it.

The emotional baptism, if you could call it that seemed to stretch on for hours within his mind and he lost touch with his physical body for the moment. Mione, who was there in the room with him, panicked when he collapsed and rushed to his side.

"Darius! Darius! Wake up! Please don't do this." She was beside herself with worry. Darius had been like a rock to her. Nothing fazed him and he had a solution for every situation. She had never seen him in a weakened state, let alone collapsed like now. She knew it was beyond her and quickly levitated his body and headed to the hospital wing. She didn't forget to disillusion them both though. No point in attracting unnecessary attention by levitating him through the corridors. She rushed in to the medical wing and found Madam Pomfrey just finishing her check up on another student and walking away.

Disillusioning herself she called out, "Madam Pomfrey!"

The matron turned around and gasped when she saw Hermione levitating an unconscious Darius. She quickly gestured her to come over and place him on an empty bed and Hermione quickly did so. Taking out her wand, Madam Pomfrey started waving it in complex motions and various parts of Darius' body lit up in different colours and she nodded to herself as if she understood something from them. The brightest part was a pure white light emanating from his forehead and she seemed surprised by that.

Hermione was frantic. "What happened to him, Madam Pomfrey? He has never collapsed like this before. And what do all those lights mean? Especially that bright white li- "

"Calm down, child. He is no danger at all, at least as of this moment. So, I can answer all the questions you may have. We do need to inform his mother and the Head of House though.

The spell I used was a very advanced diagnostic spell which tells me the condition of my patient. I am not able to tell what is causing the problem but can easily detect what it is. The white light signifies significant amounts of focussed brain activity. It is surprising given that the rest of the body is in a state very close to a deep sleep. But no worries, the activity is entirely benign, whatever it is."

"But what is it? Even if you cannot pin-point the cause, you must be having some idea of what could cause this, right?"

"Well, the increased brain activity would suggest mental magic of some sort. But I am positive he is not experiencing legilimency of any sort at all. He may be employing occlumency but I'm not sure why. Another reason for such an occurrence could be a memory inheritance. They are memories preserved by ancient witches and wizards for later generations with their most prized techniques and knowledge. But that requires a conduit of some sort, an object into which they were sealed, but he doesn't have anything like that. The last I can think of is some sort of bloodline ability. There are mystical abilities that run in ancient families, some of which tend to be mental or spiritual in nature. One of them may be able to cause such a reaction."

"What do you think is responsible?"

"I many not be a master legilimens but I can be nearly certain he is not being mentally attacked and we can write off the second possibility easily, so I would say he is of old blood. Generally, the teachers are aware if heirs of old families enrol in the school, but I knew nothing about him. That tells me that his bloodline may be extremely old, going back to before the time of the founders or he is just from an offshoot branch of an old clan and somehow awakened his abilities and the least likely, that it is a natural mutation and he may be the progenitor of a new bloodline. But I would be able to tell if that last was the case, and it isn't. One thing I should warn you about, do not pry into matters of his families or abilities. Some families hold that information very close to their chest and react badly if they feel someone is trying to spy on them. Continue to behave the same as normal and if he feels like it, he will reveal his secrets to you at the right time."

"Thank you for telling me all this, Madam Pomfrey. And also for the advice, I'll keep it in mind. But you have successfully piqued my curiosity regarding healing. Would you mind telling me some more about the profession, and if I come here occasionally to see you work?"

"Absolutely! I'd love to have more people interested in the healer profession. Our numbers are dropping in recent years and the Healers Association is starting to get antsy about it. Some of the material may go completely above your head but I've heard of your reputation and am sure you can pick up some things here and there."

Hermione blushed a bit at the compliment and turned to look at Darius again. Madam Pomfrey was right, he really did look as if he had just fallen asleep.

Madam Pomfrey called out again, "Actually, I wanted to ask you something? I know the two of you are close, so you are the most likely to know about it. Does he do regular physical exercise? Also does he practice some sort of mystic or shaman arts?"

"Umm…he does do some physical exercises but more often it is high level duelling practice with heavy physical exertion. As for the other two, what are they? I have not come across the two terms before."

"Well, the diagnosis shows an unusually developed body for a wizard. Centuries ago, when wizards were co-existing with the muggles, they often used weapons as well, such as swords and daggers. It went out of use since then and magicals have been increasingly lax with their physical attributes and focus on only their magic. What they don't realise is a healthy body is able to house much more magic and increase it faster as well. His calluses suggest sword practice.

Shaman and mystic arts are old practices which are used to increase or empower one's magic. They are pretty rare nowadays, but his magic core is unusually developed and his magic pathways are pretty strong. I wouldn't be surprised if he is well above student level already. But they are not risk free. If the practitioner is incapable of proper mental focus or strong will, they could lose control and worst-case scenario, end up magically crippled."

Seeing Hermione's worried expression, she hurried to reassure her, "Don't worry! He is in excellent condition. He isn't in any danger whatsoever. And I might easily be wrong about it. There are very few who continue such practises today and I have not come across one to date. It might just be his strong magical lineage and frequent magic practice which has boosted his magic. Either way, I wouldn't worry about it."

Minerva McGonagall was getting some work completed that afternoon as she didn't have any more classes that day when the elf popped up. It was in the traditional tea-cosy emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest, wrapped up like a toga.

"Professor McGonagall, ma'am! Misty is here to bring message from Madam Pomfrey", the elf said, handing over a small scroll to the professor.

"Thank you, Misty. You may leave now."

She was curious. It wasn't often that Poppy sent notes across to her.

Minerva

I've just had Miss Granger levitate Mr Icarus into the infirmary. I thought as his head of house, you ought to know. He has fainted but is perfectly fine physically except for some heightened brain activity. There is absolutely no reason to worry as of now. Miss granger is also waiting by his side. I would like it if she could be excused from classes for the rest of the day, I don't think she would be able to concentrate anyway. I have also sent a message to his mother after getting her information from my medical registers. She will most likely be along soon.

Poppy

That wasn't what she had expected at all. Darius was one of the best and brightest in his year and nothing like this had happened before. The mention of heightened brain activity was telling, and she knew some of the implications of that. She would need to let Hagrid know that a woman may arrive at the grounds seeking entrance to the castle as well. Before she could get to that however, a floo call came from Hagrid. The gentle giant's face in the fire looked somewhat scared, something which was rather rare.

"Professor McGonagall, a woman is 'ere at ta castle gates seekin' entrance. She is mighty pissed off an' releasing tonnes o' magic. She says she is Darius' mother?"

Ah, that was earlier than expected! She must have been in the vicinity. Better let her in quickly. If she is releasing as much of a magic aura as Hagrid is suggesting, she is one extremely powerful witch, not surprising considering Darius' talent. But worse, she is not fully in control of herself and might lose control of her magic.

"You can let her in, Hagrid. Darius is in the medical wing and Poppy informed his mother about it. She must be worried about him, that's all. Guide her straight to the medical wing."

"No problem, professor. I'll get 'er in a jiffy."

Kaela was frantic. When she received the note from Madam Pomfrey, she immediately knew what it meant. How could she not, being brought up in her family. Before her marriage, she held the name of Kaela Invidia Dominus, the clan of spies. Of all the clans that make up the Dominus family, they were the ones with the most intimate knowledge of every clan's abilities and information. A bloodline awakening almost never happened before the maturity of the magical core, generally around 17-years-old. Rarely, with especially talented kids would it happen at sixteen. But her boy was only 14 now! She knew he was talented. She knew he was much stronger than normal. But this was record-breaking, off-the-charts level of talent!

And worst of all, he awakened in one of the worst places an Ira could possibly awaken. Ira magic was generally based around emotions and what place was more saturated with them than a school? The general approach for Ira awakening was a sealed silent room but here, he was on the completely opposite side of the spectrum. The excess might strengthen him to some degree but too much could have crippling consequences on him. Thank God, he was already proficient at Occlumency. She didn't know if he was a Master at it yet, but it would greatly help him if so.

Now the only thing to do was wait for the abilities to manifest completely!

c 62

Darius found himself floating through a myriad of colors in a vast space. It was a very comfortable sensation, as if he was floating on clouds. The last thing he remembered was the massive influx of emotions from throughout the castle and then he had passed out a few minutes later. Thankfully, his skills in occlumency had negated the initial pressure, the worst of it. After that, he seemed to be acclimatizing to it before he finally passed out due to exhaustion.

The colors around him seemed familiar, as if he had been here before. But his mind was not working at full capacity and felt oddly sluggish. It took another few hours of floating in the void before it came to him. The tunnel or passage he had passed through before he reached this world, the one his soul crossed, was remarkably like this one, only that one was a lot more structured. That was a startling revelation! If he could get at the bottom of this, he may be able to unravel the reasons behind his transmigration to this world.

The colors seemed to be melding together slowly as more and more of his mental faculties returned to him. He was able to think clearly, and the colors seemed to be losing their influence on him. Seemingly and eternity later, the colors had melded together into a pristine white surface. He was able to focus completely but he was still lost as to where he was.

One frightening thought was he had passed on from the mental overload and this was his version of the King's Cross but that brought another quote to the forefront of his mind.

"Of course, it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

There is a high likelihood that Darius was inside his own head right now. If he could weather the first few moments of the mental onslaught, there was no reason to die later. And the moment he came to that conclusion, the world seemed to whirl and change into a familiar place. The huge town that was the representation of his mind was as familiar to him as the back of his own hand. He had spent hours within his own mind, perfecting the mindscape, increasing its defenses, setting traps for any unfortunate fool who tries to take a walk in his mind.

But something was new! Instead of the colorless sky before, it was the same vivid meld of colors that he was in before. Now that he was back in his normal mindscape, he could feel them clearly. They encompassed nearly every emotion ranging from unconditional love to irrational hatred. It was as if he could tap into their potential at any moment but he was loath to do so right now. His first experience with them wasn't exactly a pleasant one and he wasn't going to go back for a dive into them without having more information at hand. If he wasn't wrong, this should be his Ira blood awakening. He could be classified as an empath due to his powers, bit he could feel it, it was so much more than that. It was time he had a long chat with his mother. But before that, he had to return to his body.

Outside, it had already been over five hours since Darius had collapsed. Thankfully, it was the weekend and there was no DA class either, so his lack of presence was not noticed. Darius' mother was waiting in a small room at the end of the hospital wing along with Hermione. Hermione was petrified at first when she realized that the woman who came in with a formidable aura flaring around her was her boyfriend's mother, but they quickly got along once they got talking. Madam Pomfrey shooed them from Darius' bedside though and they were waiting it out in the small room.

"So, Hermione, how's my son treating you?"

"Wh-what do you mean? We are very good friends. We get along very well." Hermione was extremely flustered and answered in a haste.

"Well, you're the only girl he ever mentions in his letters home and from the way he speaks bout you, I'm pretty sure you are a couple. Aren't you? C'mon, don't be shy, I won't bite. I just want to know the kind of girl my aloof son would go out with. God knows, he never showed any interest in them for the past few years, it was starting to get worrying at this point." Kaela truly was curious about the girl, but she also enjoyed making the poor girl nervous. The poor dear was so embarrassed, her ears were completely red and looked ready to let steam out.

"Well, to tell the truth, we go together just about a month ago. But we have known each other since the last three years. I am not exactly a very people person but somehow with Darius, it feels so easy. I really like him and hope we can stay strong together."

"I am glad to hear you say that. I don't want some floozy going after my son for only his talent or looks or something superficial like that. Like him for who he is."

"I will. By the way, I wanted to ask, what was that aura you had when you entered the room? It was rather constricting and looked dangerous."

"You felt that, huh? Are you doing magic detecting exercises?"

"Yeah, we both are! So that's what I felt? That entire aura was pure magic?"

"Yes, it was. Magic, above all, respects our intentions. It is an energy which can be harnessed, controlled, forced and so much more. But it is truly let lose, when it is directed with purely our intentions and emotional strength. It is like a force of nature, we witches and wizards may think we control it but it is not truly so, we only possess the abilities to shape it. There are even studies towards the sentience of magic. Many believed, especially a few centuries that magic was a semi-sentient force in itself."

"Wow, this is fascinating. I have never heard magic being talked about in this manner. We are always taught about how to control it!"

"I know! And that is indeed what you should be focusing on at your age. There is a difference between letting magic be influenced by your emotions, like I did and letting your emotions rule over your magic. The latter can be particularly disastrous. It leads to the most catastrophic accidents.

Most people don't realize this, but Hogwarts is just the introduction to the magical world. It is not the be all and end all of magical education. It merely lays out the foundation. Any competent magician would choose to research further on their own. There are masteries available after schooling, followed by Sorcerers and Chief Sorcerer levels. Given what Darius has told me about you, it should not be too hard for you to get a few masteries. You can then focus on Sorcery for one or two subjects!"

"We were not made aware of all this at all. Darius did tell me once that there were levels beyond OWLs and NEWTs but not in such detail. I am definitely going to go for it."

Dumbledore was not happy! He was not happy at all! He had just received word of Darius Icarus' stint at the medical wing and he could read between the lines and guess at the causes for it. He was almost certain the boy was at least from one of the families at the Ancient families but that was not what galled him so. In fact, he was pleased about it as it would give him a chance to influence one of the scions of the old families and bring them to the Light Faction. The fact that troubled him was that he was completely unaware of the boy's origins. Oh, he knew about the Icarus line, sure, but this was not the awakening of that family at all. And now, Minerva had gotten the boy's mother into the castle before he could stall her. So, there was no way to get any information from the boy. And he daren't try to get any from the mother. If she knew any of her rights at all, she would have him strung up in front of the Wizengamot for attempting to do so, Chief Warlock or not.

Voldemort, being the last of the Slytherin family, an old family though not as ancient as the Dominus, should have awakened something truly powerful as well but the fact that he mutilated his own soul denied him the gifts that were his by birth right, as a fractured soul would not be able to bear the weight of an old family magic.

He showed up to the hospital wing and spoke to the mediwitch briefly before heading to Kaela and Hermione. The mediwitch, bound by the healer's oath as she was, was unable to give out confidential patient information. But the snippets of information she could give out were enough to give him some clues. Ordinarily a responsible mediwitch like Madam Pomfrey would never do something like this but Dumbledore's image had been cemented for a long while and she didn't think twice before speaking to him.

He headed to Kaela and cleared his throat.

"Ahem, greetings Madam Kaela. It is my great pleasure to have you in our beautiful castle, though sorry that it had to happen under such circumstances. I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of this fine institution. Though I don't recall you from my several years of tenure here at Hogwarts?"

"Greetings, Dumbledore. I thank you for the welcome and I'm sure my son will recover in no time. And you're right, I've not had my magical education in Hogwarts. Contrary to popular belief, not every magical in Britain goes to Hogwarts, as I'm sure you know. I had private tutors brought in by my family."

"Ah, that would explain it. Anyway, would you be able to shed some light on the condition of young Darius?"

"Don't play coy with me, Dumbledore! Anyone with half the experience you have would be able to tell. He is experiencing the awakening of his bloodline. And prematurely, at that. Anything more, is not for anyone outside of the family to know."

"Of course, forgive me. I didn't mean to pry. He is after all, one of the brightest of the generation and I was simply being careful that nothing untoward would happen to him."

"Don't worry about it, Dumbledore. He'll be fine. He should be up in a short while."

"Well, if you say so! I shall be taking my leave than. I wish Darius a fast recovery."

With that said, Dumbledore smartly turned and headed out the door. Kaela knew very well that this was not a mere social visit. Dumbledore was plotting something again and planning to use her son in his games as well. But no way in hell would she allow that to happen.

Hermione was startled at the obvious distaste that Darius' mom held for Professor Dumbledore but upon thinking on it, realized that Darius always had the same expression whenever they talked about the old headmaster. It was a curious reaction to be directed towards the most publicly acclaimed light wizard and she knew there was more brewing under the surface than she realized.

Suddenly, an overbearing mental pressure spread throughout the hospital wing. Hermione recognised it as being somewhat like the mental pressure that Darius used to temper his will and mental strength in the RoR. But she did not panic, because despite the suffocating pressure, she could clearly recognise the mental touch for whose it was. Darius was awake! She rushed towards Darius' bed, his mother hot on her heals and they reached the bed to see Darius awake on the bed, trying to regain his bearings.

"You're awake! I'm so glad you are alright. Both your mother and I were worried about your condition."

"Calm down, Mione. I'm fine." And he truly was. In fact, he was better than fine. His mind was feeling so unfettered and free and his magic felt whole in such a way that it was a wonder how he never noticed the ack before. He had unlocked or rather discovered a part of his magical heritage and his magic resonated with him on a far deeper level.

And although he didn't know it at the moment, he had awakened a compound power instead of the customary single powers, a rarity that happened only once every couple of generations. It was emotional energy manipulation or Patho-ergokinesis, a combination of emotional and energy manipulation. A particularly high-level trait that could enable him to use almost the entire arsenal of Ira powers. A truly prodigious power that truly showed the true strength of his clan.

Darius could feel the aura of every person in the room clearly. It was as if he had gained an extra sense suddenly that he was able to use flawlessly. He could feel the pure relief and joy of Mione, the pride and joy of his mother, mixed with just a smidgeon of worry and the relieved feelings of Madam Pomfrey. He gave them the brightest smile he could and said, "I've never felt better!"

c 63

Darius said it with such conviction that he sub-consciously used his powers for the first time and let them literally feel how good he felt. And for a few moments there, all three witches were able to bask in the sensation of being magically powerful before the power pulled back into Darius' body. It was like an empath feels other feelings but only in reverse, Darius managed to imprint his own emotions for a short while o the surrounding people.

The other two didn't really understand what just happened and assumed they were feeling relieved at Darius' complete recovery. But how could Kaela not understand? She instantly looked at Darius with wide eyes and was stunned silent. Each of the heritage techniques required hours of studying to understand their applications and usage, and here was a young guy, still only 14-years-old, who was able to sub-consciously able to use his power effortlessly. For God's sake, most of the clan kids only awakened their inherent powers in their twenties and thirties. That was not to say no one awakened it at a younger age, but everyone who did so couldn't control their powers and either lost their minds or had to have their powers sealed away for at least a decade. That is why she had rushed to the castle when she heard of Darius' condition, to seal his powers as soon as possible. She didn't know of any circumstance when a person as young as Darius awakened their powers and managed to withstand the mental strain of doing so. It was astounding and she was full of pride for her talented son.

But that is when she realized something. How on earth was she supposed to get the Ira brand for her son? Any branch family member who awakened their powers on their own were fully qualified to demand it as their right but they weren't exactly 14 when they did so. She could clearly see Darius' plight if he returned t the clan now. He would be forcefully pulled in to the main branch before being given the brand on his heart and then mired in the endless politics and schemes that the families played. She might even be separated from him in the name of providing superior training so that they could bend and influence Darius towards their way of thought, without her interference. No way was she going to let him become a pawn in their games.

"Darius, honey, I need to talk to you about some things now, in private. If the two of you wouldn't mind leaving us for a moment?"

Hemione and Madam Pomfrey tactfully left the bedside table. They were pretty sure this was about the awakening and trying to listen in could be construed as Magic theft, a capital crime by Family Magic Laws.

"What is it, mother?"

"First of all, I want to say how proud I am for your achievement. I don't think there has been such an early awakening in the family for generation. But this same cause for celebration is also cause for worry. I know you are wise beyond your years, so you should be able to understand some of the motives behind this. You will become a pawn for the family elders if they ever get to know about your talent. I have no desire for you to enter that den of vipers until your old enough to protect yourself properly and have a good head on your shoulders."

"But why would I want to go back to the clan. I have no desire to meet any of them. They did not help you in your time of need. What makes them think we might want to return to them?"

"While I appreciate your chivalry, you do have to go back if you ever want to get your full inheritance. Each awakened member of the clans of the Dominus family are given their clan brand over their hearts. The brand imparts the knowledge of most of the clan techniques to the person. Now you have two choices, either go back and get caught up in the clan politics to get the brand or forego the brand to carve out your own path. There have been a couple of people who choose to do that every generation and they have achieved varying levels of success. The mediocre ones suffer from the lack of proper techniques and stunt their potential, but the more powerful ones invent such amazing techniques that they were begged to come back to the clan at high prices and contribute to them. It is purely up to you. But know that I've the utmost confidence in both your raw talent and ingenuity.

Darius thought it over and found that it was a fairly simple decision in the end. Why place yourself under the thumb of another when you have even the slightest chance of rising far above them? He was not like the rest of the magicals with their stagnant thought processes and lack of ingenuity. There was barely any significant advance in the magical world for the past several decades. And he had a treasure trove of ideas from all the books he had read in his previous life. Clan magics were more intent based than incantation based and did not require verbal spells for most of them. With a clear visualization of the process backed by a strong will, it might be possible to exploit the powers to an incredible level.

"You know what my answer will be already, don't you, mom? I am going the solo route. The powers our clan wield are incredible and I'm sure I can gain a high degree of proficiency with them. I will start putting in some time to start developing those skills, but I suspect this will be a long-term effort."

"Of course, I do! I have raised you for your entire life after all. You have always been fiercely independent and sought to advance your magic by your means. And you have my blessings to do so. I know that you might have a bit of a tough time at the beginning, but the rewards are worth it. But before you get to that, we must accurately categorize your power. There have been instances where an incorrect categorization stunted the potential of very talented people by not letting them grow into their full potential."

"Sure mom, what do I need to do?"

"First test for an Ira, release your outermost mental shields and tell me what you feel?"

"That's easy enough."

Darius released his outer shields and relaxed. The outer shields were only the first line of defence into his mind. Releasing them was of no danger to him but it did open him up to the flow of energy around. He instantly noticed the emotions of all the people in about a 50m radius. The baptism of emotions he had had in the beginning prevented the pressure from getting too overwhelming and allowed him to keep himself grounded. But the next thing he noticed were the auras. The shimmered and flickered around the figures of his mother and Madam Pomfrey and Hermione over in the next room. This time it was a much shorter radius, merely about 10m or so.

"I can feel the emotions of everyone in about a 50m radius, their emotions, feelings, desires and the like. But that is likely not its limit by far. I caught snatches of emotions from further away and am pretty sure I could feel Mione and your worry from before. That was a particularly strange feeling. Also, I-"

"Oh my! You're a Clairempath! A person who can sense and perceive emotions and feelings across time and location. It is a highly regarded skill in the clan. They only appear every couple of generations or so. It will be an extremely useful skill to have."

"That's not all, mom. I can also see and feel the aura of everybody nearby. I can't accurately read the auras yet but believe I'll be able to do it with time."

"An Aura master then. While it is not a particularly rare skill, there are about half a dozen every generation, but trained properly, you can take it to great heights. But the incredible thing here is you awakened two of them simultaneously. The last patho-ergokinecist born in the clan was about twelve generations ago, I believe. Such people are able to sense and manipulate both emotions and energy.

Never mistake magic and energy. Magic is a narrow component of energy, the more spiritual and mystical one. The auras you see are the physical component of it, based on your vitality and life force. Energy manipulation encompasses both of them. You should have a far easier time of learning wandless casting and magic sense now."

Wow, this is so broken, its ridiculous! How would anyone be able to face up against this."

And one sharp bonk to the head was given. Darius almost didn't see the hand before it slammed on his head.

"Darius, you get a big head about his, and I keep hitting it till it returns to normal. That's what happened to the last patho-ergokinecist. He went out looking for adventure and died out there because he got cocky. You may have special skills far beyond most people, but you are sorely lacking in the experience department to back that up. And there are other families just as old as us with fairly powerful skills as well."

"Yes, yes, I understand. I just caught up in the moment there. Don't worry I won't let up on my training at all."

"I'm glad to hear that. Now we are almost done but there are a couple of things left. One, don't reveal your skills to anyone you don't trust a hundred percent. That sweet girl waiting outside seems to be one such person but think deeply before letting her know. Second, train as far as possible in your powers. They are time-consuming ones and the earlier you start, the easier path you will have."

"I will keep that in mind, mother! You don't have to worry about me slacking off during training mother. In fact, it is the other way around. There simply isn't enough time during the day to train. I am simultaneously working on learning more spells, improving dueling, improving transfiguration, perfecting the mind arts, research projects and more. I will need to actually need to set up a timetable to juggle all of this over the entire week, so that I don't fall behind in any of them."

"I see! Its great that you're putting in so much effort into it. Most other kids have to be dragged to do the bare minimum but also make sure not to go overboard. Training has to be tempered with relaxation or you'll be worn thin. And make time for your friends as well, especially that girl outside, I quite like her."

"Mooom! Don't embarrass me. But yes, I agree to what you're saying. And anyway, we spend most of our time together. She also trains together with me to improve her magic. She's got a drive to learn greater than I've ever seen before."

"Very well but take care of her. And now that you are fine, I need to get back to what I was doing."

"Ah, that reminds me, what were you doing that you managed to get here that quick?"

"Well, it was meant to be a surprise, but I might as well tell you now. I was in the middle of renting a house in Hogsmeade village for the both of us. I know how much you loved staying here when you were younger and thought that it would be nice if we shifted back here. You could also easily visit me on Hogsmeade weekends."

"Wow, that's great, mom. I'll definitely visit. And it would be great to live here again. Are you going to be working at Pippin's potions again?"

"No, I don't plan to work at any shops anymore. I might do some contractual work, like making so many bottles of so and so potion. But it'll mainly be work from home."

"That's fine. We don't need any more money anyways. And with my latest research, as soon as its successful, we'll be rolling around in mounds of gold."

"Oh? And what's this new invention of yours? I already told you to give up the idea of making those emergency escape portkeys and healing accessories. Both of them are too valuable in the eyes of those in high society. They would try to find any means to either get that information from you or entrap you into making it for them forever."

"It not that, mom. I didn't make any more of them after making one each for you and me. Though now that I think of it, I should make one for Mione as well. Anyways, the new research should be completed before the end of the year, so I'll show you during the summer break."

"Fine, I know you like your surprises. But I got to go now, the realtor must be waiting for me and I really want to get that cozy looking house with the garden."

"Bye, mom. Thanks for coming by. I hope I'll see you at the next Hogsmeade weekend."

"Bye, son. Love you."

"Love you too."

Darius' mother swept out of the room and Mione and Madam Pomfrey entered soon after.

Madam Pomfrey performed the diagnostic again and observed the results. "You are absolutely fine now, Darius. Your brain is still functioning at a higher than average rate but nothing outside acceptable parameters, must be a side-effect of your clan trait. You may leave now, but I want you coming back to the hospital the instant you have any problems whatsoever. Got it?"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey, I will. But I don't think there will be any further problems anyway. Let's go, Mione."

The duo left the hospital hand-in-hand under Madam Pomfreys tender gaze. Mione had had a major fright when she had seen Darius collapse and it was reassuring to see him back to his normal self. And she had managed to have a successful first meeting with his mom as well. She hoped she had made a good impression!

c 64

Things went back to normal after that incident. Luckily, it had happened during the weekend and Darius' absence had not been noted. He had a whole new power to get used to and had so many new ideas he wanted to try. But he also knew that he could not be rash about it. When he still wasn't awakened, the initial influx of emotions had knocked him out and though he didn't believe it would be quite as bad as the first time, there was no reason to risk it.

Mione was still worried though. She was always hovering around, likely trying to make sure he didn't collapse again but finally started to behave normally after a few more days. They continued their RoR practice as well.

It took a few days to learn the initial parts of his powers. The Clairempathy allowed him to sense the emotions and feelings of any sentient beings, including ghosts. He was mighty surprised when he was trying to feel the emotions of the students around him on the way to the Great Hall, when he detected the strongest wave of self-hatred and regret that he had ever felt. He looked around to identify the person and found the Bloody Baron passing by. Darius knew about his story of course and could understand the reason for his feelings.

But occlumency seems to prevent his senses partially. For instance, he knew Snape hated teaching. The man was a Master Potioneer and a genius at that but that didn't mean he liked to teach. But he still didn't get any such negative feelings out of the man during the classes.

But even more amazing were the abilities associated with being I an Aura Master. Just a little bit of magic sent to his eyes would allow him to see the Aura of everyone around him. The sending magic to the eyes bit was a bit tricky but his natural instincts for the skill helped him in achieving it. He had to prepare his magic as if he was going to cast a spell and then direct it to his optic nerves. The magical energy allowed him to see beyond the mundane and gave him a view of Auras. He was still a novice at reading them, but despite that they were a great help in understanding people.

Mione had an amazingly ordered Aura, it was a smooth and gentle flow, though it did get excited every time she encountered books! Harry's aura was also unique, the innermost part was a beautiful glowing aura, but the outer parts seemed to swirl and flicker all the time. The horrific part though was the remnant aura his scar held. Despite the horcrux being removed there were still trace amounts of an extremely malevolent aura, though it did help Darius in identifying the Dark Lord's aura. The teachers at school all had stupendous auras, particularly Dumbledore and surprisingly Lupin. Dumbledore's was like a blazing fire, Darius was sure he could recognise it even from a mile away. Lupin's was also surprisingly strong, the werewolf within him must be the cause of it. But without a single doubt, the greatest aura in the school was Fawkes. That magnificent bird's aura would be visible for miles, it was that powerful. The only thing Darius knew for certain, was that the bird was bonded to Dumbledore, but he was sure the bird must be much, much older that the old wizard.

Practising either of the two skills was not easy at all, they were right up there with wandless magic as far as the level of difficulty was concerned. Only the preliminary abilities were somewhat easy to use but he was sure that there was much more hidden underneath the surface. Just the Aura master abilities had the potentially branch out into game-breaking abilities. Patho-Ergokinesis was a prized awakening skill for a reason!

The time went by swiftly with nothing amazing happening and was overall a calm few months. Darius' attempts at learning his powers were coming along but at quite a slow pace. The greatest asset he had now, was that he was instantly able to identify people by their auras, this meant there was almost no chance of anyone sneaking up on him, whether disillusioned, invisible or disguised. He was also able to get a better handle on his clairempathy and was quite easily able to tell truth and lies apart now.

Darius and Mione' relationship was going on just fine. They were doing all their practice together, he helped her advance far ahead in her schoolwork and they just loved each other's company. They had gone on another date the next Hogsmeade weekend and enjoyed it just as much. She had also taken to use magical remedies for all the small problems she had, based on Darius' advice of course. She had always hated her buck-teeth and bushy hair and it took just some persuasion from him for her to acquiesce to magical help. After Madam Pomfrey's two-minute cure, she was no longer so sceptical and made good use of the Owl Order pamphlets from the Owl Post at Hogsmeade to order some custom-made hair potions. The interested looks she got from the others after that almost made Darius wish she hadn't done so in the first place. Almost! She looked gorgeous and was the ideal girl with both brains and beauty.

Harry and Daphne were getting along swell too. Some of the Slytherins were enraged when they first found out and tried to come after Harry. Too bad for them, Harry was one of the premier members of the DA. They were taken down without even realising what happened and then shoved into the nearest broom closet. It was a tight fit for the four hulking Slytherins and quite an embarrassing position to be in when they were finally discovered a couple of hours ago. They attempted to retaliate though, the keyword here being attempted. Darius set the Weasley twins on the Slytherin's case and they were only to happy to test their entire arsenal of new products on the offending Slytherins. There was merry laughter in the hall on that day, when half the Slytherin house turned into chickens when they began to eat their breakfast.

Neville and Hannah were arguably the most similar couple. They got along swimmingly and were seemingly the perfect couple. She had helped a lot with the remainder of his self-esteem issues and he had brought her out of the shell she was in and made her more open with everyone.

The teachers had also started coming down hard on the students. OWLs were one of the most important examinations in a witch or wizard's life and everyone was working at a feverish pace to ace it. Darius had no worries about it though, as usual. The fortis memoriae was the single most useful spell for any student to learn. Even Mione, for all her disgust at cheating, acknowledged the sheer usefulness of the spell. She was able to devote much more time to learning practical magic now and was still able to go through more books than she did before.

Darius had also brought in some of their friends in the DA in the secret. No reason why they should waste time learning academics by rote when there was such a convenient alternative. Fred and George, Harry, Daphne, Neville, Hannah, Susan, Luna and Lee were the only ones Darius taught the spell to, and even that after they took a wizard's oath not to divulge it to any outsiders without his explicit permission. The twins and Lee were especially overjoyed since they also had the OWLs right around the corner. Though Darius did suspect that the twins might not put it to use for the exams. They were geniuses in their own right but still got minimal OWLs in canon and he suspected that it was to escape the clutches of their harpy-like mother and not end up in a ministerial job.

For some reason the Thestral herd had grown even closer to him once he had unlocked his powers. The came up to him as soon as they noticed him and started cosying up to him. Darius suspected it was due to his aura master abilities. With the awakening of that particular ability, his own aura had shot up in strength and power. It had also imbibed the dual nature of his core and exhibited a perfect mix of life and death, rather similar to the Thestrals.

One surprise was that the Buckbeak incident was still taking place. Hagrid was not in the crosshairs like last time since Malfoy didn't actually get hurt but they were still going after the hippogriff. Darius made a visit down to Hagrid's hut at least once a week and got to know about this the earliest. Hagrid was a very kind soul and really loved his little monsters, so Darius really felt for the poor guy. Hagrid had taught Darius a lot over the past few years, in fact more than most of the other teachers. Whatever the other teachers taught Darius, he had generally learnt it long ago so he didn't really learn much from them. His main source of knowledge was self-study and the RoR.

But Hagrid was different. The man had selflessly taught Darius all he knew about various beasts and it was much more than he could have learnt otherwise. The man had encountered nearly every known magical beast. It was a less known fact that Hagrid went on a different trip nearly every summer break to see a different animal. He had been groundskeeper since his expulsion and every knut he made went into these trips. The man was a veritable walking talking monster library.

"Hagrid, you needn't worry about it at all. They don't have a case against you at all. Buckbeak is in a bit more precarious position but I'm sure we can get him out of it. No poncy gits like the Malfoys are going to harm such a magnificent creature."

"Thanks fer tha' Darius. It does me good ta hear that. And thanks fer all the material ye got fer me. It should be much easier to figh' his case wit' this."

"Don't worry about it, Hagrid. I like the Hippogriffs as well. Though I got to admit that I like the Thestrals better!"

"To each his own. An' it is nice that at leas' some one likes those poor misunderstood beasts. They are extremely useful animals, once you can get pas' the superstitions."

"I know. And flying on them is also an exhilarating experience. But back to Buckbeak, you needn't worry so much. Even if you lost the case, it won't be too difficult to sneak him away to someone who can care for it. I know someone who has ample space in their mansion to house a hippogriff."

"Really? Thanks a lot, Darius. I am feelin' a lot more relieved since we have some other arrangements."

"No problem, Hagrid. By the way, how did you like your year as a teacher?"

"It was great. I loved ta teach all the kids abou' all the differen' animals. I was really worried afta' the Buckbeak incident though. If something serious had happened, I would hafta teach about Flobberworms for the rest of the year. But thanks ta ya, it all got sorted out."

"Well, I have been wondering for the past few days. Since you have so much experience in CoMC, why don't you apply for OWLs in it? Hogwarts is not the only place you can give OWLs, y'know? You can give it in the Ministry as well. Though there is the restriction of being only able to appear for it once in our entire life. But you never gave it before, so you should be able to appear for it."

"Are ya sure? I would love ta give he exam. But won't it be awkward?"

"Absolutely sure. The Ministery offers OWLs, NEWTs and Mastery exams to anyone who is interested. You just need to apply by owl post and go to the Ministery on the assigned date. I am confident that you can easily get your Mastery in CoMC. And it would be a lot easier for you as a teacher if you got a mastery. At least snobs like Malfoy wouldn't be able to kick you out easily."

"Mastery? I canna do that Darius. I appreciate the vote o' confidence. But how on earth am I prepared fer Mastery?"

"You are more than qualified, Hagrid. You just don't have the self-confidence to take the examination. I promise you, you are more than capable enough to take them and ace them as well. Go on, go for it."

"Ver well, I'll try it ou' this summer. And I really appreciate the help, Darius."

"It was no biggie, Hagrid. Just trying to get you to live up to your potential. But I gotta leave now. See ya."'

"Bye, Darius."

Darius had since helped Hagrid a number of times to learn some more of the theory bits. Hagrid didn't need help with the practical portion at all, he was as good as the examiners who would conduct the test. Darius also sneakily placed an overpowered Fortis Memoriae on Hagrid every time he visited, to help Hagrid learn the theory quicker. His OWLs were at the same time as the rest of the students but within the Ministry ad the NEWTs a week later. The Mastery would be about a month later, in the middle of the summer break.

Darius knew this was a major change to the timeline, but he couldn't help but help his friend. It hurt him to see Hagrid not utilizing the immense potential he had in the field. Plus it shouldn't vreate a vast change in the future. Hagrid would also get much better treatment in society with his status as a master, not to mention a raise in the pay scale.

Unfortunately, the case went the same way as in canon and Buckbeak was sentenced to execution. Darius found it suspicious though. He had provided Hagrid excellent material, which should have definitely got Buckbeak off the hook. There must have been some major strings pulled for this to happen. But he couldn't understand the purpose, even Malfoy Jr wasn't pushing so hard for it this time around. Someone else was also there on the field and they had their own agenda!

c 65

The exams were just a couple of months away and people were already starting to get back into the study mode, particularly the OWLs and NEWTs students. The novels didn't do any justice to the OWLs preparation at all. Students were literally putting their lives on the line in the months preceding the exam. After a grueling day of classes, where each teacher would try to push them to do their very best, they would have to return to their common rooms to further study on their own. Darius saw students study till late at night and then get up early in the morning to continue. It was crazy!

He was a bit tempted to just let them know about Fortis Memoriae but finally decided against it. The spell was too useful to just be given out freely. There were applications beyond academics as well. Plus, he didn't want to reveal the cards in his hand so early. Too many people would find a teenager self-creating a spell to be worth looking into and he didn't need that kind of attention right now.

He himself utilized all the time to do his research and practice his dueling. His research was coming along just fine and the RoR was an absolute goldmine in that regard. The dueling was coming along fine as well, though it would be much better if he had an actual opponent to practice with. There was only so far you could go with dummies. Though the Soul Grimoire was proving to be extremely helpful in that regard. Turns out, the book didn't only have magical knowledge but also a lot else. For instance, dueling skills as well as spell creation. In fact, several of Voldemort's dark spells were self-created. He had travelled after he finished schooling and learnt a lot from it. Building on knowledge from old Egyptian, Mesopotamian and Greek curses, he created and altered new spells. That was one of the reasons it was so dangerous to fight him head on. Several of his spell were far beyond conventional dueling spells.

Darius himself learnt a lot from the books and began to extrapolate it into his own work. Dark spell truly were just more powerful spells, it was only the intent behind them that made them seem evil. The blood boiling curse, sanguis inflammare could keep someone dying of the cold and hypothermis long enough to get help but in the wrong hands, cause a most painful and prolonged death. He also found most of them to be vastly ineffective. Voldemort may be one crazy lunatic, but he had the right idea about the Avada Kedavra, that spell would put an immediate end to the enemy rather than giving them time to get back at you.

Darius didn't bother too much with the negative side of the dark arts. Not only did they have a corrosive effect on your psyche, they also unnecessarily attracted the wrong kind of attention to oneself. If he really did have to kill someone, a severing charm to the arteries, or a bludgeoning hex to the head would work just as well. He was hoping he wouldn't have to do that but this world might not prove to be that accommodating. That was one of the reasons he was so focused on his occlumency over Legilimency. The occlumency shields could help him filter the emotions and shock if he had to kill someone and not cause him to freeze up in the moment. Though he was getting a lot better with Legilimency after his Animagus form changed.

Darius had tested his new Wampus cat form and found it to be exceptionally powerful. Most spells would not ne able to even get past his hide, let alone affect him. His Legilimency powers in that form were very powerful as well. He hadn't had anyone to test out the hypnosis as of yet, but he was sure that they would prove to be just as formidable. He could also run faster than almost every known creature. According to Sirius, he was a nearly invisible blur when he was going at top speed. The only thing he had to work on now was the speed of his transformations. If he could do it fast enough, he would be able to incorporate it into his battle tactics. For instance, he could fire off a spell as a feint, transform and race towards the enemy's blind spot, transform back and then let off another spell at the unaware opponent. Unless the opponent had unnaturally fast reflexes, there was no way of countering this combo. But the problem lay in the fact that he would be partially vulnerable when he was transforming. Sirius had got it down to mastery, he was able to transform on the fly at a moment's notice. Darius had to reach a similar level before he could safely use it in actual combat.

Darius was sure he was already at the apprentice levels for most of his subjects. In fact, his potions level was approaching Mastery. As a subject which required a great deal of theoretical knowledge, the Fortis Memoriae was particularly helpful. Though it was very doubtful whether he would ever go beyond that level, that required an almost instinctual understanding of the subject that was possessed by the rare few like Severus Snape and Lily Evans.

Charms, Transfiguration, DADA and CoMC had a much more hands-on approach and he could do much better there. Transfiguration particularly was proving to be his strongest suit. By now he was effortlessly able to transfigure large objects with exquisite detail. His conjuration was also up to par. The battle applications of it may not be readily apparent but it was far more versatile than any other field. While charms may have a much larger variety of spells, they were all geared towards a single task whereas a single transfiguration spell could be used for a great variety of tasks.

Hagrid's Ministry hearing had gone much the same way as in canon. The decision was already made even before he had gone into the courtroom. Hagrid had presented his case well though and not stumbled at all. But it was all for naught, Buckbeak was sentenced to execution. The sentence would be carried out in a few days and Hagrid was down in the dumps all the time. Darius had already written to Sirius but hadn't received a reply yet. Their monthly run had not come by yet or they could have met in person. Darius was sure he would agree though. He didn't explain the plan to Hagrid though. The half-giant may be a gentle soul and the kindest man around, but he was absolutely lousy at keeping a secret. Darius just told him that he would take care of it.

Just the day before the Ministry executioner was due to arrive, the letter from Sirius arrived. He said he would be glad to take care of a Hippogriff. CoMC had always been one of his favorites and he was very good with Hippogriffs. Darius had to plan this out carefully, the timing had to be just right if they were to ensure that Hagrid was not made into a scapegoat.

The next morning, Darius went down to Hagrid's hut bright and early. He had his plans ready but he wasn't a hundred percent sure whether it would work. First thing, he looked around and saw that there was no one around and quickly transformed into his Wampus cat form. Padding up to the Hippogriff, he stared at the beautiful creature. Buckbeak seemed to sense his gaze and turned to look at Darius. He tried hi first plan and opened a tentative connection using Legilimency. The Hippogriff resisted for a couple of seconds before finally allowing him in.

It could not exactly use words to communicate. So, what it dd was to communicate using mental images and sounds. It was not an exact art but with the skills of a Wampus cat, he was able to manage. It was simple enough, Buckbeak was to go to a certain house in London and stay there when he was told to do so. Darius sent the location of 12, Grimmauld place via mental images and pictures till he was sure that the Hippogriff understood his plan. Buckbeak was inordinately smart for a beast and got it in just a few tries. The knowledge that Darius was more than powerful enough to eviscerate it must have helped the speed along.

After that, it was time to play the waiting game. Darius had no clue when exactly the executioner would arrive but he knew it would be some time in the morning. He had already pilfered food from the kitchens that morning and he proceeded to lay down and rest after casting a disillusionment charm on himself. He had gotten quite good at the spell after frequent usage. Darius drew inspiration from the words that Dumbledore had once spoken to Harry, "I do not need an invisibility cloak to make myself invisible." The words may be simple but served to illustrate the heights a single spell could reach once you had high proficiency in it. The entire area looked absolutely serene with no disturbance and Darius simply slept off. It was late in the morning, close to noon in fact, when Darius woke up because of some loud voices.

Professor Dumbledore was leading the group that was walking down the lawns. Behind him was the tall form of Macnair and an elderly man holding a sheaf of parchments. The elderly man must be a ministry worker or an official from the Committee for Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Darius had also made it a point to learn as much as possible about every Death Eater, pardoned or not. Things like their workplace, residences, magical skill, fighting abilities and more. Macnair was one of them and it was easy enough to recognize his face. But the worrying bit was the absence of the Minister of Magic. According to canon, Cornelius Fudge should have been here as well, but he was not. So clearly, there had been a change in the events.

They were let into the hut by Hagrid after they had seen Buckbeak chained up in the paddock to finalize the details. Darius wasted no time and rushed towards Buckbeak after casting a wandless muffliato at his feet to prevent any accidental noise. Buckbeak already knew the plan ad was waiting for him. He quickly disillusioned the Hippogriff and then sent him flying after a hard pat on its hindquarters. Darius didn't know what Macnair was playing at here, even the Malfoys weren't so vested in it, but he intended to get Buckbeak out of the way before it escalated further.

"Good luck, Buckbeak! Fly high, fly fast and may you have a safe journey!"

With one last affectionate nudge, Buckbeak took off into the skies at a blistering pace and was soon out of sight. Good deed for the day done, Darius started to trudge back to the castle when he felt it. The slight vibration in his pocket that told him he had an emergency on his hands.

When Darius had first started the DA, he considered using the Protean charm and mimicking Mione's work with the DA galleons. But the DA being a legitimate club, there was no reason to sneak about surreptitiously and hand out secret messages. But he found a new use for it. They were designed to work as a sort of SOS signal when someone was in danger. Darius had handed it to his closest friends and told them about its usage. The coin he held now showed Neville's name along with the words DA Hall.

Darius threw caution to the winds and moved to the DA Hall as fast as he could. He used one of his newest spell creations, ventus. Ventus gave him an amazing wind-assisted speed that was nearly twice of his normal one along with minimal exhaustion. It was designed to be a combat speed to help him even out the odds against duelists with far better reflexes or more experience than him. But it could be used to cover ground faster as well. He skidded in front of the enchanted doors less than 10 minutes later. The doors were only able to be opened by a password that the DA members knew, when it was not in use.

"Strength in numbers!" He shouted and immediately the portrait swung open. He headed in with his wand drawn, on the lookout for any enemies. He saw Neville, Hannah, Harry and Daphne standing around a single person, all of them with wands drawn. The four of them were some of the most dedicated members and often spent their weekends together in the hall while training. Mione and him used the RoR, of course.

The person bound and gagged in the center had a familiar look. It was the traitorous rat, Peter Pettigrew. He looked to be in a terrible condition. The arm that had been severed by Madam Bones was still not healed and he had a small stump remaining. He was dressed in beggar like garbs and looked to not have had any rest forever. He was knocked out for the moment, so Darius turned to the others. Neville had a small slash on his arm and Harry was looking a bit tired but that was all.

"Alright, seeing as you have this piece of shit bound up here, I know why you called for an emergency. Now, someone explain to me what the hell happened here?"

Neville began first, "Well, Harry and Daphne were already inside by the time we came. Hannah and I were going to enter after we spoke the password but a sudden force flung us forward and we lay sprawled on the floor. The door closed behind us with a bang and we turned to see Pettigrew standing there. He must have been under an invisibility cloak or a disillusionment charm and stepped in the moment someone used the password to open the door."

Harry took over after that. "Daphne and I were dueling when this happened. By the time we turned around, Neville and Hannah were on the ground and the rat bastard had a wand on them. I remembered the incident with Oliver and saw red, sending off half a dozen spells at him in quick succession. That was enough to distract him and for them to get their wands back into their hands. Then all four of us dueled him. He may be a traitor and a coward, but he knew his way around dark spells. Too many of the spells he used were unknown to us and could prove to be potentially lethal, so we played defensive. Daphne then tripped him up with a quick bit of transfiguration and Neville knocked him out with a stunner."

"Well done, all of you. You kept you heads in the fight and didn't take any unnecessary risks. And bringing down a veteran Death eater is no joke, even if it is the weakest of them, so congratulations on that. I hope this illustrated my point that we have to be prepared all the time. But now, it's time to interrogate this traitor and find out what exactly are his goals.

c 66

"Ennervate!"

Pettigrew woke up slowly from the effects of the strong stunner and looked up to see someone directly n front of him with their wand directly pointed at his forehead. He was also bound up in conjured ropes and there were four more people arrayed around the first with their wands pointed at him as well. He blinked to clear his eyes and his vision came into focus to see the students around him. He immediately recognized Darius, Harry and Neville, he had lived in the Gryffindor tower before, after all. But he wasn't too sure about the other two girls. They had the yellow and green trimmings in their robes which showed they were of the Hufflepuff and Slytherin houses respectively.

He was in a bad situation now. Being in the castle was dangerous enough, being caught would see him handed over to the dementors post-haste. But he had a task and he had no choice but to do it or suffer the wrath of Lord Voldemort. And he knew of Darius. Ron had complained about the boy often enough, about how he was supposed to be the best friend of the boy-who-lived and his place had been snatched away by Neville and Darius. But Pettigrew saw past that for what he was, he was one of those geniuses that came along once in a while, like James and Sirius had been. He had been so jealous of their innate skills and knew exactly how Ron felt. But now was not the time to reminisce or remember old grudges. Darius was a dangerous opponent and he had already been divested of his wand, he could only hope that he would be able to turn the situation around.

Darius saw the twitchy little traitor and had to hold himself back from striking him mercilessly. This rotten coward was the reason two brave people had lost their lives to a maniac and a little boy was left orphaned. But he had to shelve his hatred for now and get answers.

"So, Pettigrew, you know how this goes. You have been captured and are our prisoner. So, fess up on everything you are trying to do, or we get it out of you the hard way."

Pettigrew paled a bit at Darius' smirk and but managed to hold himself together. "I will say nothing. What are you going to do, a mere student, to a death eater in the service of the Dark Lord. You better let me go if you know what's good for you. Otherwise he will come after you, your families and all your loved ones and kill them all."

"What a brave front you have put up! But we all know the cowardly scum you are. But it seems your fear of Voldemort lets you ignore the immediate threat in front of you. Well, no matter! There are other ways to go about it."

Darius knew he had to be careful with his next steps. The information he would get from Pettigrew might prove far too important not to take a risk though. He silently placed a muffliato in the surrounding area. He had already instructed the others to keep a distance of at least a few meters, so that they could move to capture Pettigrew if he tried to escape.

"Somnus!" He placed a low powered sleep charm to get Pettigrew to be drowsy and lower his mental defenses. It would be much easier to do the next step then.

"Legilimens!" He may not be an accomplished Legilimens in terms of skill but due to training under mental pressure in the RoR, he was easily able to brute-force his way into Pettigrew's mind, especially considering his defenses were already down.

"What is your aim here?"

Images swum around in his mind and came together to show Babymort giving the rat instructions to get the blood of Harry Potter against his will. He had been given an unbreakable phial with preservation charms to get it back for Voldemort.

Damn!

"Do you know why?"

Pettigrew's memories showed the procedures his master made him do to start creating a potion. He said he will resurrect himself and return to his full power with a secret ritual he knows. Harry Potter's blood is one of the needed components of the ritual.

"Is there any one else involved in the plan?"

Macnair had come today as backup for the rat. He was supposed to be distracting Dumbledore along with the other member of the Committee for Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, who was under the Imperius. After he is able to separate from Dumbledore, he would wait for Pettigrew near the edge of the Hogwarts grounds.

"Anybody else?"

At least, according to his memories, no one else is involved. Thank god for small mercies.

"Where is Lord Voldemort and is there anyone else with his right now?"

Pettigrew's memories seemed to be growing hazy as he tried to find out the answer. He delved deeper and deeper but to no use. There seemed to be no way to get the information of Voldemort's location from Pettigrew. Either the information had been shielded by Voldemort himself by placing some sort of mental blockade or more likely, the place was under the Fidelius.

As to the person taking care of Voldemort right now, a shiver went down Darius' spine. It was Fenrir Greyback. Voldemort had promised Greyback something, Pettigrew didn't know what. In return, Greyback had sworn an unbreakable Vow, to serve and protect the Dark Lord till his eventual resurrection. This was not good, not good at all. Having that psychopath on Voldemort's side this early in the game was unacceptable.

This was too early. Why on earth was this happening already. Darius desperately needed to delay this plan. He wouldn't be able to protect him all over the year. Sooner or later, one of his lackeys might be able to get their hands on his blood. Pettigrew escaping early has caused a shit load of problems. With no information from Bertha Jorkins, he couldn't even come up with the abduction plan. And that is when it struck Darius. He had the ideal patsy right in front of him. But it would take great resolve on Darius' part.

He realized it quite early, that this life of his will not be as peaceful as his previous one. That someday, he would be faced with the death eaters and he would have to put them down. He was not an idealist like Dumbledore, he understood that in war, it was either your side or the other side. Using stunners and disarmers was beyond foolhardy when going up against people who are likely to send a killing curse at you the very next second. The Order of the Phoenix suffered heavy losses in the first war because of that. But he was still not a cold-blooded killer and it wasn't an easy transition. At least he would do it in an indirect manner this time.

It was time to put his impromptu plan to the test.

He looked around and saw that the other four were still alert and had their wands pointed towards Pettigrew, ready to strike him down if it was required.

"Confundo!"

"Serpens Agonia!"

The dark curse hit Pettigrew and the man immediately started to shake in pain. Darius quickly followed up with a weak wandless bombarda at the ground between Pettigrew and himself, blowing up that small area and creating a smokescreen. Pettigrew took the chance to transform, as Darius knew he would and scarpered away as fast as his three limbs could carry him.

"Incendio!" The stream of fire burst out from the end of Darius' wand and spread out in the area in front of him rapidly, sending the temperature in the room up by a few degrees near instantaneously. He was careful to keep it a foot above the floor though. This way, Pettigrew escaped in the confusion and the other four students couldn't come close enough to see through the trick.

"All of you, Pettigrew had a backup wand and managed to escape by using a distraction. I don't know if he escaped or not, so be wary. Neville, Daphne and Hannah, please hurry to the Headmaster and inform him that Pettigrew was sighted within Hogwarts premises. Also, he and Macnair are here on a covert mission given to them by Lord Voldemort."

The girls made to run out of the room when Darius remembered something.

"Wait!"

He quickly drew out the Marauder's map and looked at it to find Dumbledore's name. The headmaster was currently in his office and he also spotted Pettigrew racing out of the school wards. Good, that part of the plan was successful. The confundus charm made him forget to meet Macnair and escape back to Voldemort on his own.

Macnair was still waiting a few meters away from the school gates. This was an excellent opportunity to ambush him.

"Daphne and Hannah, head to the headmaster's office. Dumbledore is currently located there. Go! Go! Hurry up!"

The girls rushed off in a hurry and Darius turned to face Harry.

"Harry, there is another death eater on the grounds right now. Want to come with me to take him down?"

"Another one!? Let's go now. God knows what might happen if we delay."

The two of them took off immediately. Darius led Harry through a couple of secret passages to shorten their route by a lot and they were in front of the castle doors in no time.

Darius placed a disillusionment charm on both of them and a muffliato on their feet as well. They rushed towards the castle gates and stopped near a small copse of trees nearby. Macnair was not visible anywhere nearby, so Darius took out the map again. The map showed his location to be less than five meters away, just on the other side of the trees.

He must be under an invisibility cloak, just waiting for Pettigrew to come to the assigned place with the vial of blood. There was only one thing to do, flush him out.

Darius pointed his wand at the approximate position of Macnair and let loose.

"Bombarda Maxima!"

The entire area blew up and a badly mangled body flew out of the patch and landed on the ground a couple of meters away. Of course, this was all a play for Harry's benefit. Darius already knew that Macnair was there by seeing his aura. Only a cloak like Harry's would be able to hide from his aura sight. But there was no way he was letting one of these racist, bigoted, maniac terrorists get away. Even if Voldemort was taken down, these people would be there to destroy whatever peace was made. The more of them got taken out early, the better it would be for everyone. But it would not do to just let this one bleed out just like that.

"Harry, go back to the castle and let Dumbledore know about this guy as well. He looks to be alive still but won't be for much longer."

"Yeah, I'll do that. But keep an eye on him, he might not be out for the count yet."

Harry rushed back to the castle and Darius headed towards the body lying on the ground. Just as he was a few meters away from it, he saw the aura of the person spike up and quickly threw up the strongest shield he could.

"Protego Maxima!" And he was just in time too.

A wicked looking purple spell came flying towards him and hit his shield with a bang and gave off multicolored sparks. Darius noticed the shield beginning to give away and quickly rolled out of the way. The shield shattered a moment later and the spell went past where his chest had been just a second ago.

Macnair had gotten up by now, but he was in a sorry condition. His robes were tattered all over. His left hand was blown clean off his shoulder and lay on the ground a meter away. He was bleeding profusely and by his paling skin, looked ready to pass out any second.

Quickly buffing himself with a strong ventus, Darius began running in a semi-circle around Macnair, trying to block off his escape route out of the castle.

"Bombarda! Reducto! Incendio!"

Macnair managed to shield the first one but the second one blew a hole straight through the shield. Darius was quite powerful as it is and to add on that, Macnair didn't even have half of his normal fighting capacity. The fire managed to reach him and set him alight.

Macnair screamed in pain and managed to put of the flames with an aguamenti charm.

His whole outfit was smoking, and the wounds looked in an even worse condition. His shoulder wound got burnt though and stopped bleeding for the moment.

Darius banished him with a strong depulso and he flew through the air and landed further within the Hogwarts wards. Darius had gotten in between him and the Hogwarts boundary by now and he couldn't escape unless he managed to get by Darius.

Macnair got up to his feet unsteadily and noticed that his wand had blown even further away and was at least a few meters away.

He huffed a little bit and managed to wheeze out. "You're a scary kid, you know that! Say what, come with me and I'm sure the Dark Lord can find some use for someone of your talents."

So, he was trying to tempt him to switch sides? A final ploy to save his life. Darius was sure, Voldemort would sooner Crucio him for destroying his plans than welcome him into their ranks, not that he was eager to join their terrorist group anyways.

"Thanks, but no thanks!"

"Petrificus Totalum!" And Macnair keeled over, stiff as a board.

Darius knew he was in a dangerous position now. He may have lost his head in the midst of all the adrenaline rush, but he was able to come back to himself in short order. He had just attacked and lethally wounded a ministry employee and a pure-blood with no provocation whatsoever. The Wizengamot would have taken no time at all to give Darius the worst possible punishment.

He did not have Pettigrew in custody and neither did he have a memory of Pettigrew's confession since he got all the information through Legilimency. So, he had no proof to back up his claims. But it shouldn't be too hard to get it now.

"Confundo!" He placed the strongest confundus charm he could.

Darius once again resorted to the confundus charm to trick the opponent. Especially with the wounds he had and his mental state at the moment, Macnair should be completely swindled by it.

He quickly disillusioned himself and spoke in the best imitation of Voldemort's voice that he could manage.

"You failed, Macnair. And you know that I don't like failures. Speak, Macnair! What was your mission in Hogwarts? Tell me every one of the details."

Macnair fell over himself to prostrate on the ground and laid out every part of Voldemort's plan. About how Macnair was supposed to play his role, where he was supposed to rendezvous with Pettigrew, about how Pettigrew was to get the blood of Harry Potter and everything else he knew. Now, he had a complete confession from him and the memory to back it up. What happened to him was no longer the concern of Darius. The man had one foot in the grave already.

As he watched Macnair taking his final breath, he spied five silhouettes make their way across the lawn speedily towards him. As they came closer, he made out his four friends as well as Dumbledore rapidly making their way across the lawn. As he saw Dumbledore's enraged face, he could truly appreciate the power this man must have wielded at his peak. His aura had changed from the gentle flow it normally had to a raging inferno around him. He might not like Dumbledore's schemes much, but you got to give the man credit for his power.

He turned to see Macnair's chest collapse as he passed away and heaved a deep sigh. He sat down on the lawn, not out of physical exhaustion but mental. He had taken two lives today and he knew he might have to take even more. Thank god this unexpected confrontation went their way! But he also knew that he could not let up in the least and would have to continue to get stronger if he wanted to come out of this alive.

c 67

Pettigrew collapsed to the floor as soon as he appeared. Voldemort was having his concoction of potions and Nagini's venom when he suddenly popped into existence. Pettigrew's face had started to turn purple and his entire body was convulsing painfully. Most of his skin surface had blackened and blood had started to come out of all his orifices. It was amply evident he had either been dosed with an extremely strong poison or hit with a dark curse.

"What happened, Wormtail? Did you get me the blood or not?" Voldemort's high voice rang out in the room. It was amply clear that he did not care one whit for his servant's life. Greyback was present there as well but he made no effort to help the dying man, he was just sitting hunched over on one of the armchairs in the corner.

Pettigrew tried to open his mouth but to no avail, the curse had breached his respiratory system and he found it hard to breathe, let alone speak. He could only plead with his eyes but that didn't hold any sway with Lord Voldemort.

"Since you are unable to speak, I might as well rip it from your mind."

Voldemort knew that Wormtail was dying and didn't have long to live. If he had an actual body, he might have been able to brew something or cast a spell to keep the curse at bay, but it was beyond his capabilities for now. He may have been able to manage a counter-curse if he knew what spell this actually was, but he didn't have enough time to examine him. So, he could only resort to getting the information by ripping it from Wormtail's mind.

"Legilimens!"

Voldemort scoured through Wormtail's memories, but the process was very difficult. The memories seemed extremely clouded and sluggish. Voldemort thought it may be due to Pettigrew's approaching death, but the truth was that the confundus charm used by Darius as well as the mental barriers placed by him played a far more important part in it.

Voldemort saw that he was unsuccessful in getting the blood and also failed to rendezvous with Macnair and was enraged. He still persisted in going through the memories and found the knowledge of the Triwizard Cup taking place next year, conveniently placed there by Darius. Voldemort didn't have the time to verify the truth of the matter but that was all the better. It would mean he could verify the information himself and then build up his plan himself without realizing he was being manipulated into doing so.

"Did you manage to learn something, master?" Greyback spoke up in his rasping tone.

Both the werewolf and his master paid no more attention to the corpse lying on the floor beyond Voldemort telling Nagini to have her fill in Parseltongue. Nagini had been an unexpected and fortuitous find in the Albanian forests. She was by far one of the cleverest and most intelligent serpents he had ever encountered, on par with the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. There was something unique about her. He had even suspected she was an animagus at first, but tests had proven that it was not so.

She also provided the venom that kept this homunculus form alive. He had had Pettigrew abduct a pregnant woman from one of the small settlements near the Albanian forest and made himself this unnatural body using her unborn foetus and dark magic. It was barely adequate, but it would have to do till he managed to rebuild his body again. Nagini's venom was once again a vital component in the ritual and he used the murder of the mother to fuel the process of creating another Horcrux.

Voldemort thought for a whole longer and then slowly replied after gathering his thoughts. "Of course, I did. And I learnt some interesting things too. I wonder how Wormtail came by this information. Though it is unconfirmed, I suppose it wouldn't be too difficult to confirm the veracity of the information.

The information is that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place in Hogwarts the next year. I will be the ideal opportunity to get to Potter. It seems I have been too hasty with my plans when there was such a golden opportunity just waiting for me. If only I could have had some insider Ministry information, things would have been much simpler."

"Why don't you meet Lucius, my lord. He is ideally placed in the Ministry and well-connected enough to get you all the information you may desire. For that matter, Snape would have had an easy time getting the blood of the Potter boy."

"You know my condition, Greyback. True, I have built myself a rudimentary body through my deep knowledge of the dark arts, but it is still not enough to truly display my power. They may even turn on me, the one they pledged allegiance to, if it would help their cause. I find myself having doubts in the loyalty of my followers, after their renunciation of my group. I will meet them, but only when the time is suitable."

"As you wish, master. But when will you fulfill your accord with me?"

"All in good time, my follower. You shall have your chance to bite as many younglings as you wish but all in good time."

Dumbledore was enraged like the students had never seen him before. Harry and the other felt their scalps prickle as they could literally feel the palpable aura he was sending out. All five of them rushed to the copse of trees where they could see Darius and Macnair fighting. They saw Darius fire off one final spell when Macnair was barely steady on his feet, which all of them recognized as the full body-bind curse, and the Death Eater collapsed to the ground. Darius also sat down and begin to rest just as they all reached him.

Dumbledore looked over Darius once to ensure he didn't have any lethal injuries before rushing over towards the Death Eater to check his condition. Macnair had already passed away!

"Darius, my boy, we should get you back to the castle as soon as possible. I do not think you have any serious injuries but I want you to rest under Madam Pomfrey's care for the meanwhile. The rest of you can accompany him but do not pressure him. He had had a difficult fight and needs to rest."

Dumbledore then conjured a pair of stretchers and after loading both of them onto the stretchers, began to float them towards the castle. He was very worried about Darius. The boy, whether intentionally or not, had taken a life today. Such a deed does not go by without leaving a mark on one's psyche. And he couldn't just let one of the brightest minds of the generation succumb to this.

It was a pity that Macnair had passed away, they may have been able to get some valuable information from him. But the main thing now was to handle the fallout from this. It was not very reassuring to parents when two Death Eaters manage to make their way into school premises, where their children are located.

The next couple of days, Darius spent his time twiddling his thumbs in the hospital wing. He did have a bit of a difficult time coping in the beginning but Mione was by his side for most of the day, and that helped a lot. He had not held back and frankly let her know that a man had died by his hand. Better coming from him than from someone else. She already knew the ins and outs of the matter though, the other four had let her know.

Dumbledore was oddly accommodating this past few days. Guess he didn't want Darius to end up a cold-blooded murderer. He had immediately ordered a seal on the entire incident. Not the fact that it happened but what the actual series of events were, and the people involved in it. Of course, you can't hide the death of a Ministry official on Hogwarts grounds, but Dumbledore was able to head them off from Darius and the other students' direction. None of the students wanted the additional fame this would bring them, Harry in particular.

They all collectively asked Dumbledore to cover up the incident and take credit for the discovery of the two Death Eaters. He seemed happy to do so, he was very satisfied that none of us had gone after fame and just kept our heads down. Fame wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. And guess keeping Harry out of the limelight had been a great motivation for the old man. The staff had to be told what happened, of course and most of them were very impressed with our acts. Though it was touch and go there with Professor McGonagall, on whether she would award us points for valor or dock them for risking our lives.

But the incident finally got out into the open. The Daily Prophet got a front-page article on the matter though the truth was obfuscated a bit, as was usual with the Daily Prophet. Darius didn't know if this was a decision on their part or they were pressured by the Ministry but there was no mention of the fact that he was a Death Eater or what his plans may have been. Darius had given Dumbledore a full accounting of the incident as well as the memory to back it up, so he had the full confession of Macnair on hand. But that wasn't enough to tie the incident to Lord Voldemort in the eyes of the Ministry. They didn't want the society to panic and pressed the information, merely saying that Macnair was up to something dangerous and was stopped in time by the Headmaster.

The general public behaved like sheep, as expected of them, and lapped up the bogus story and had another reason to revere their respected leader of the light. But the more powerful players in the game knew that this was a dangerous sign. Death Eaters don't suddenly become active after more than a decade for no reason whatsoever. The Ministry just wanted to stuff its head into the ground, as usual and hope the whole mess blew over and was nothing more than a blip in their stability.

Though the Ministry did catch a lot of flak for allowing someone deranged be on their payroll, it wasn't enough to knock Fudge of his seat. If Fudge had accompanied him to Hogwarts like in canon, the situation might have been different. But in the present situation, he just washed his hands clean of the whole debacle. Lucius and his cronies took a hit to their reputation as well, they were well known acquaintances and it reflected poorly on them. Besides, Lucius and the others status as ex- Death Eaters was the most poorly kept secret in magical high society, and they only got away with it by using their gold and influence.

Harry, Neville, Daphne, Hannah and Mione were impressed though, very impressed. Darius had just taken down a full adult, one who was a Death Eater and had knowledge of Dark spells. Mione was the only one who knew exactly how much time he put into training and even she was impressed. You don't see a mere 5th year, who is actually one year younger than the rest of the class, take down a Death Eater all that often. Mione had taken a lesson from all this though. Darius had already told her that the magical world was not all that peaceful, and this incident drove her to put in even more effort into her training. She had always been skilled, but she was growing by leaps and bounds. Despite all the advantages he had, she may be able to catch up with Darius' present level of skill in less than two years, at least with focus casting. She was still far behind as far as natural casting was involved, but at least she was working on it.

The incident blew over quickly enough, though the four students present on that day started working almost as hard as Mione did. It was a positive effect and Darius encouraged it as much as possible. With all the ordeals coming our way, they needed to be prepared. Though Darius would do all that he could to make sure things didn't go that way.

c 68

It had been a couple of months since the Death Eater incident and judging by the lack of any more attacks, Voldemort had shifted to his tournament plan. It would be much easier to counter his plans if the timeline was closer to the original. Darius was glad that the trick he had tried worked, at least as far as he could tell. Pettigrew's mind was ridiculously easy to tamper with, must come with being as weak-willed as he was. Voldemort could have no doubt figured out that it was planted information if he had more time but with the deadly curse on Pettigrew, there was no way he would live long enough for that. The curse was the same necrosis inducing venom spell which Voldemort had placed on the Gaunt ring. There were only a couple of spells that had even the slightest resemblance to it, so I'm sure Voldemort was able to identify it but that didn't mean e could heal a deadly curse that had been cast for such a long duration, not even sure whether he would bother to do it even if he could.

The OWLs were here. The first exam that decides your life. The students in the 5th year were going absolutely bonkers with the pressure. It was common to see frazzled and frustrated students lounging around the common room with heavy tomes in their hands. The library was as silent as a graveyard and everyone inside was feverishly studying to make up for all the slacking off they did in the earlier years. Unlike the NEWTs, which were much more selective in their approach and only tested the advanced knowledge of a student, the OWLs were known to have questions on obscure topics taught in the first year. It was not much of a problem for Darius, what with his cheat-like Fortis Memoriae, but it was hell on earth for the others. Darius meanwhile was using his time efficiently and was furthering the gap between him and his peers even further, as if the situation now wasn't enough already.

He had managed to bring down the time taken to complete his animagus transformation to less than a second and it was now a viable addition to his combat strategy. Having an incredibly fast, near invincible animal form you could switch into in the middle of a fight was a great trump card. The highly magic resistant hide of the Wampus cat allowed him to shrug off all but the most potent of curses and spell, i.e., if they cold hit him in the first place. Most wizard couldn't possibly match the speed he could attain in his Wampus cat form and that was a great advantage to have.

His spell work had also grown dizzyingly fast and he cold fire off spell at a very high speed now, though at the cost of slightly reduced power and accuracy. The stationary dummies at RoR offered no challenge any more and he had started with the moving ones. It had done wonders for his spell work. There was absolutely no use having a vast repertoire of spells or a great deal of power if you couldn't even hit the opponent. Most wizards were not at the level of their full physical potential. As wizards naturally have higher body specs due to the magic coursing its way through the body, they never really bothered to improve upon it. Even so, Darius maintained his rigorous schedule constantly and maintained a high level of physical fitness. With the addition of the Vertentes, he was head and shoulders above the rest of the people. What most wizards don't realize is that stamina plays just as important a role in a duel as magical power, many wizards get taken down because they were unable to keep up with the physical exertion rather than getting magically exhausted.

The examiners were here! Omg, they were finally here. Darius was starting to get a bit testy with the atmosphere in the castle. It was like someone was coming to take them all to the gallows for execution. The somber mood was totally killing his mood and it was a great relief when he saw the examiners walk into the hall. Of course, the rest of the students acted as if they had just seen their executioners walk in and the hall was pin-drop silent. Even the lower years seemed to understand the gravity of the situation and seemed to be silent for once. The examiners were led by a wizened looking witch, presumably Madam Marchbanks, the head of the W.E.A. or Wizarding Examinations Authority. There were a gaggle of examiners following her, though Darius didn't bother to count. The students had already been given their exam schedules and exams were to begin in another couple of days.

Darius' timetable was as follows-

Monday Charms (Theory)

Charms (Practical)

Tuesday Transfiguration (Theory)

Transfiguration (Practical)

Wednesday Herbology (Theory)

Herbology (Practical)

Thursday Defense against the Dark Arts (Theory)

Defense against the Dark Arts (Practical)

Friday Ancient Runes (Theory)

Monday Potions (Theory)

Potions (Practical)

Tuesday Care of Magical Creatures (Practical)

Wednesday Astronomy (Theory)

Astronomy (Practical)

Thursday Arithmancy (Theory)

Friday History of Magic (Theory)

Darius had all the subjects except two, Divination and Muggle Studies. Divination was a crap subject for anyone who did not actually have the gift of the Inner Eye and Muggle Studies was so outdated it wasn't even funny. Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and History of Magic were purely theory subjects and CoMC was only practical. The rest of the subjects had both theory and practical examinations. The advanced classes for Arithmancy and Runes in the NEWTs level did have some practical applications but not at the OWLs level.

The night before the first exam, the students were freaking out and studying till the last moment. Just to be on the safe side, Darius also went through the entire syllabus once, with the Fortis memoriae spell activated of course. Mione was even more nervous about his OWLs than he was, despite knowing about the Fortis Memoriae. It felt nice to have someone so concerned anyway and he reassured her that he would do very well in the examinations.

The next day dawned and Darius left his Vertentes early and headed down to the Great Hall for a hearty breakfast. Charms was up first, and Darius didn't want to perform anything less than his best.

The crowd cleared out as breakfast got over, though the exam students still milled around. At half past nine, the students were let into the Great Hall and told to take their seats. The arrangement was just as it had been described in the books. Four long rows of single seats meant for a single individual. All the students bustled about taking their seats. When the hubbub finally settled down, Professor McGonagall gave the customary warning regarding cheating and then distributed the exam sheets to us with a single wave of her wand.

As soon as the hourglass was turned, beginning the start of the examination, Darius put his head down and started on is paper. It was extremely simple for him and he went about it diligently. There were a vast number of questions though. Darius wasn't sure what the requirement for an 'O' was, but he was pretty sure that answering about 70% of it correctly should have been more than enough.

The questions ranged from levitation charms, all the way up to the Patronus charm. Color charms, cheering charms, summoning, banishing, severing and everything in between. By the time Darius finished the paper, there was only about half an hour left, but he was well satisfied with his attempt. Unless he was very much mistaken, and he didn't think he was, he must have broken the record for the Charms written examination.

The exams were followed by lunch, where Darius had to spend half the time trying to calm a hyper Mione before he got to having his lunch. The other students, at least those outside the DA, were practicing all the spells in whatever little time we had left.

He got called in pretty early and walked up to the only free examiner, a certain Professor Ember. She was a relatively young witch, only in her mid-thirties or so, and gave a bright smile as he approached.

"Hello, Darius Icarus, right?"

"Hello ma'am, that's right."

"Now, I want you to relax and take it easy. Too many people make mistakes they wouldn't otherwise make just because they are too tense. Now, first I would like you to levitate these five feathers and make them do a circle of eight in the air."

And so it began. We moved from levitation to color changing, then size manipulation, summoning and banishing, utility charms and more. It was a pretty thorough exam.

"Well, Darius, I have to say your performance was commendable. In such extraordinary cases we allow students to perform their best spell, for a better grade?"

Well, he didn't know that's how it worked, or he would have thought it through earlier. This must be how students can achieve the coveted O+ grade. His repertoire of charms was not expansive as his dueling spells and only one thing came to mind. Harry may have used it to get an O in DADA, but technically, it was a charm.

"Expecto Patronum!"

The ocelot Patronus burst out of the end of the wand and zipped around the place like it owned it. Thank god there weren't any DA members in the room at the same time as me, or we would be having a whole herd of Patronuses going around the place. Ember gave a wide grin when she saw it and clapped twice.

"Impressive, very impressive! The Patronus charm is a NEWTs level charm and even most of them don't know it. That's going to be a big boost, Darius. Very well, you may go now Darius, and keep up the good work."

After that, Darius was led out through a side door and asked to return to his common room. This was done to prevent the people who have completed their exams from disclosing the contents to their friends. Darius headed back to the tower, a bit exhausted, but exceedingly pleased with himself.

Transfiguration the next day went much the same way. The theory was much more difficult due to the complicated spell formulae and the complex theories behind transfiguration, not to mention the endless variations of its applications. At least in charms, each spell stuck to doing what it was supposed to do, in transfiguration a single spell could be used for multiple effects or in multiple scenarios.

The practical was a breeze as well. Darius managed to complete everything flawlessly and impressed the examiners there as well. For the extra spell, he chose not to use the Aegis. Beyond impressive though it might be, especially for an OWLs student, it was as of yet not complete. He chose to show conjurations, a NEWTs level technique, and conjured a multitude of objects of varying complexities. McGonagall was watching from one end of the hall and Darius noticed her giving a very self-satisfied smile from the corner. He couldn't have been prouder.

Herbology theory was a joke for Darius. He just needed to answer the material given in the textbooks word for word. It did not even require any application like the previous two papers. The practical in the afternoon on the other hand was quite decent. He got a particularly stubborn Snargaluff and had to struggle with it a bit but that shouldn't stop him from getting an 'O'.

Defense against the Dark Arts was, unsurprisingly, the easiest of the lot. He had read books on the subject till the mastery level and spent hours in the RoR reading up obscure books on the subject. He had personally taught various kids the subject and taught them well at that. Even if he didn't have the cheaty Fortis Memoriae, he would have absolutely aced this exam. He had a ready answer for every question and the various scenarios described in them.

The practical in the afternoon had Professor Tofty, the very same professor who took the exam for Harry Potter in canon storyline. The test had been all to easy. There was an obstacle course, similar to the one Lupin uses for the third years, some tests for counter-curses and hexes and a test on spell proficiency of a variety of basic defence spells. The examiners must speak amongst themselves, Darius' reputation had already preceded himself and Professor Tofty had already cleared an area for his extra demonstration. This time Darius was already ready for the show. He performed a series of spells which he had already done, only, they were all done non-verbally. He could have a done a number of them windlessly as well, but that might have been a bit too much, plus he didn't want to expose every card in his hand. He finished off with a demonstration of spell swatting, Professor Tofty very willing to act as the partner for the demonstration.

Ancient runes was just too easy. He was already thorough with the theory. It would have been a different story if there was a practical part but fortunately there wasn't one. Runes were very versatile, and with there endless combinations they could be a nightmare for practicals.

While Potions was not his strongest suit, he wasn't too shabby at it either. His theory was perfect, as usual. The practical in the afternoon was not as easy. The Draught of Peace came out perfect though the Invigoration Draught, not so much. It was more than acceptable enough but if the exam was to be graded solely on that potion alone, he would not end up higher than 'EE' grade. But based on the other potion and the written test, he should be able to scrape an 'O' easily. He had realized it before as well, but this just struck it home. He was more than a decent Potioneer and could get by easily, but he didn't have that sheer talent or feel for potions that took people beyond the level of Mastery. He would be able to get till there at least but that would be the end of his road as far as potions were concerned.

CoMC went the same way as the Herbology practical, it was near perfect except for a small singe from the fire crab. Though with the speed at which he repaired his clothes and healed himself, Darius didn't think the examiner had even noticed him among the multitude of students present. Nevertheless, it was an excellent showing.

Astronomy was a cinch. He already memorized everything in the book down to the smallest detail, so the theory was not a problem at all. The practical, he cheated on it just a bit. They were to be held at night, so he used the miniature planetarium he had bought form Diagon Alley to see the night sky. It cost a hefty amount, but it was worth it. It could be synchronized to the movements of the celestial bodies and it took but minutes to memorize the whole thing. When he went to the practicals, he just had to mark everything in the star chart and he was done. He was finished in less than half the time required.

Arithmancy was the toughest of the theory papers he had had. Not only did it test the knowledge of the student, it also tested the comprehension of it to great detail. Luckily, Darius was actually quite good at the subject and didn't have much of a problem with it. Taking apart spell models and reverse engineering them was another hobby of his and he wouldn't have been able to create his memory fortification spell without it.

History of Magic was easily the dullest paper of the lot. All Darius had to do was to write down whatever he had read in the book word for word.

All in all, the exams went fantastically well. Unless he was very much mistaken, and he didn't think he was, he was bringing home 10 OWLs. The entire mood of the castle had lightened up after the OWLs were over and the near visible pall of pressure which was present on all the students was finally lifted. The only thing remaining was about a week's time before the end of term feast before they set off for their homes. He spent the remaining time snuggling up with Mione on the Hogwarts grounds and enjoying life. No studies or practice for a week, after all it is good to rest once in a while. Also, he had managed to complete the project he had been working on for over a year, so he was pleased as punch.


	12. c 69

The last week of the school year passed by quickly as Darius and Mione lazed about together. They had already made plans to meet up later in the summer and they were looking forward to it. Darius did have one worry though. No matter how separated they were from the main family, his mother and him were still a part of it. And he didn't know if the family was like one of those old families that liked to have the traditional arranged marriages or believed in the purity of blood. One thing he was sure of, things wouldn't be pretty if they tried to meddle in his romantic life.

The term was finally over, and they all headed down to Hogsmeade to get on the Hogwarts express. Darius and Mione took a cabin for themselves instead of sitting with the whole group like they usually do. Time passed by quickly as they just played cards, discussed books and experimented with Bertie Botts every flavor beans. The train pulled into the London station with a loud whistle and they both alighted, Darius chivalrously carrying Mione's trunk, it had the featherweight charm on it of course.

As they alighted from the compartment, Darius caught sight of his mother, who was waiting near the end of the platform as usual. He turned to look at his girlfriend and saw her looking at the same direction and then noticed them. A couple was standing pretty close to his mom, the man was well buit and had the same chocolate brown eyes as Mione and the lady had the same bushy hair as her, they were undoubtedly Mione's parents.

"C'mon, let's go together, our parents are standing pretty close together."

"Ok! Do you think I should tell my parents about us?"

"What about us?" Darius said, feigning innocence.

"That we are… um….in a relationship now?"

"It was so cute the way she was feeling nervous and blushing, but Darius decided not to let it keep going on.

"That is entirely up to you Mione. Do whatever makes you feel comfortable. But if you really wanted some advice, I suggest we come clean, they deserve to know the truth after all. I can even accompany you now to let them know."

"Thanks a lot, Darius. I appreciate the support, but I think I'm going to do this on my own. I'll let them know when we reach home. Don't worry, my father won't come after you with his gun, probably."

"Hey, that's not very reassuring, and why was there a 'probably' tacked on to the end?"

"Hehe, I was just kidding. He wouldn't do anything like that, but still try not to provoke him too much. He is very open minded and wouldn't mind the relationship but no kissing in front of him, that might be just a bit too much for him."

"As you wish, Mione."

By this time, they had already reached the parents and split apart to greet them.

"Hi mum, it's great to see you."

"It's great to see you as well, Darius. It's rather boring without you around."

"Haha, by the end of the summer you will be eager to see the last of me."

"Of course, wo who would be able to put up with you the entire summer and not get tired out. Anyways, I saw you getting down with that Hermione girl. I hope you have been treating her well, I quite like that earnest girl."

"What kind of question is that, of course I have. We have been learning a lot of magic together and even otherwise spend most of our time together."

"Good for you! But now, let go. We need to get going."

They set off for home, but not before Darius could give a sneaky goodbye to Mione from behind her father's back.

Hermione and her parents were on the way home, when her mother spoke up, "So, who was that boy?"

Hermione spluttered in shock and her father had a hard time stopping himself from immediately slamming the breaks.

"W-w-what do you mean?"

"Oh, don't kid around with me, the boy who secretly waved to you as we were leaving. Your father may not have noticed him, but I saw him out of the corner of my eye."

"Oh, what's this I hear? Hermione, are you hiding something from your father?" Her father asked in a deceptively soft tone.

"Eh, not exactly. I was going t tell you when we got home but I guess its out of the bag now. That boy is Darius Icarus, and he asked me to be his girlfriend earlier this year. I accepted."

But the explosive response she expected didn't come. Instead she just saw her mother looking at her with concerned eyes.

"And are you happy with him? Is he treating you well?"

"Of course, he is. I would have left him the very second he started acting like the rest of those bigots. He is a gentleman through and through and a great friend even before we started going out."

He father spoke up. "Judging by your expression, you expected a massive blow-up, didn't you? Don't try to deny it. But we only wish for your happiness, Hermione. And that bit has been a pillar of support for you from your very first year, you mentioned him in every single letter since 1st year. We are just happy you have someone to be with. It helps that he also happens to have a intellect on the same level as yours. You would be miserable with anyone else."

"That's great! Now I can invite him o- "

"Just a second, missy. Just because we like him somewhat, doesn't mean you get to go overboard. He is still the rascal who is trying to steal away my little girl. I have got to give him the shovel talk the next time I meet him."

"Daaaad!"

"Don't worry, Hermione. I'll keep him in check so that he doesn't embarrass you." Her mother pipped up. "But tell me more about the boy. I only know him a little from the short mentions in your letters."

"Well, his name is Darius Icarus. He is two years above me academically but only a year apart in age. He has beyond genius level intellect and I wouldn't be surprised if he comes away with complete 'O' grade OWLs this year. He has already created his own spells and his practical knowledge of spells is so far beyond the rest of the students that he teaches other students in a club.

But all that aside, he is a very calm and gentle person. He has been the ideal boyfriend as is not pushy at all. We practice magic together, eat meals together and even spend most of our free time together. I hope we can be together for a long time."

Hermione didn't tell him about his blood line and hidden families as that might prove to be a bit too much for them. She was with him for his personality and caring nature, not for his money or family connections. It was like telling her family the guy she was with was from a ducal family. It would just freak them out.

"Well, he certainly sounds like a nice chap, but I want to meet him personally at least once."

"Yes, father. You will get your chance but please try not to scare him away. You have no idea how many girls are waiting in the wings to take my spot."

"What do you mean?" her mother asked in a concerned voice.

"Well, with all that I have told you, don't you think that there will be a ton of girls who are after him. Don't worry, he doesn't pay any attention to them at all, in fact, I'm the only girl he has ever taken out on a date but that doesn't man any of those vixens wouldn't take the chance if I stepped aside."

"My, my, it certainly seems like you got yourself a good catch there."

"Well, I did. I was lucky to. One thing you should know is that witches and wizards mature earlier than non-magicals. We become aware of the opposite sex, our feelings and desires are stronger and so one. So, I got really lucky to get him before the others could sink their claws into him. Though, he always counters that by saying that he was the lucky one to get me."

"At least he got that right." Her father said with a booming laugh. "Any guy who ends up with my daughter is a lucky chap."

They had reached their street by this point and pulled into the driveway of their house.

"I just want to tell you that though we will not restrict you too much, we are still your parents and care about you a lot. You are our only daughter and we want you to lead a happy life. Unfortunately, both your father and I don't exactly have the power to protect you in the world you have stepped into. So, please take care of yourself well."

Hermione could clearly feel the care her parents held for her and the helplessness they had to bear. They were very accepting of her differences from her childhood. While other children played and ran about he had her head stuck in a book. When the letter for Hogwarts came, they didn't overreact like many other non-magicals would have and still treated her the same. And yet, they couldn't do a damn thing to help her in the magical world. It must have been so vexing for them.

"Don't worry, mother! I will have no problems. I have a great set of friends who have got my back. Because of the DA club, I know students across the houses and of different years. This would never have been possible before."

"I know, dear. But it is still a parent's duty to worry about their children. At least that Darius guy seems nice enough."

"Don't worry about him, mother. He would be the last person to hurt me. You can trust my judgement, he would never try to harm me."

"Very well, let's go in now."

Harry was so excited about the summer break. For the first time since he joined Hogwarts, he would not be returning to the dratted Dursleys for the summer. Sirius had picked him up at the station and they had apparated right to the doorsteps of the Grimmauld manor.

As they were opening the door, Sirius said "I've been remodeling the house since last summer. You already know that I didn't really like my family and I hated living here. So, I decided to refurbish the whole damn place. Kreacher has been a whole lot better since we destroyed the horcrux in the locket and-"

"WOAH! This place looks awesome, way better than before." Harry burst out.

"Thanks a lot. I put a lot of effort into it. Darius even lent Dobby's help and he and Kreacher worked all over the year. And both of them were only to eager to do so. In fact, they seemed almost disappointed when the work was over. Haha!"

And the house did look amazing. Instead of the dark and dreary look from before, it was furnished in warm colors with a predominant beige finish. It was much brighter and welcoming. The dark artifacts in the rooms had all been stuffed in a single small room on the topmost floor, along with the weird furniture, the elf heads and the Black family objects. The small room also housed the portraits of all the Blacks that Sirius disliked including Walburga Black. It was made into some kind of Black Family shrine by Kreacher and Sirius did not mind at all, as long as that crap stayed away from the rest of the house.

Sirius also showed Harry Buckbeak. Of course, Harry was already familiar with the Hippogriff and knew about its miraculous escape just before the execution, but he had had no clue that it had come here. The two of them spent some time with the hippogriff before touring the rest of the house.

The black library was particularly impressive. It was close to half the size of the Hogwarts library but most of the books were very old and rare works, some of them thought to be no longer existing. But one thing that was clear even to a novice wizard like Harry was the dark quality of the books. The whole library was shrouded with a strong oppressive pressure from all the dark magic in there.

Sirius had also found the reason for Kreacher behaving the way he did. One of the books in there were about sentient magical creatures, which had included house elves. This information even predated the formation of the Black family and was only hearsay written down by the early Blacks. House elves, originally wild elves, had always been magically powerful, but that was also a curse for them. They were not able to easily use magic without devastating effects and their numbers were dwindling with every passing century. In desperation, they contracted with the strongest wizarding families of the day to serve them in return for acting as magical limiters. The wizards accepted eagerly, and the elves came to be known as house elves. Their magic bound to a large extent, their population flourished again, and their race was no longer in danger of wiped away. To this day, they are able to effortlessly use strong natural or wandless magic without any focus. Though it came at a price and the elves were bound forever. They had a sympathetic loop of magic with the master and that affected them as well. Dark families, such as the Blacks, had so much black magic running through their veins that it even begun affecting the elves. Kreacher, having lived by feeding of the dark energies in the house, was corrupted almost beyond return but Sirius, the only Black to not dabble in the Dark arts was the only person who could help him regain his sanity. The elf changing a lot over the past few months was not only due to the destruction of the Horcrux, Sirius' presence had also slowly changed things for the better.

Harry got his own room of course, and it was right across the landing from Sirius' room. He settled in for the night, a wide smile on his face. He looked forward to the rest of the summer and what other pleasant surprises it may bring.


	13. thrownintothefrey1

Dec 20, 2015

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I yawn. No coffee this morning. Didn't set the alarm, had to run for the bus. Not that it seems worth it some days to show up for this minimum-wage warehouse job. But that's what you get for not living up to your potential and finishing university. Same shit, different day. I really shouldn't have stayed up late last night. Sometimes a fanfic grabs you by the throat. I'll catch up on sleep at lunch-

The only warning I have of the badly-secured pallet toppling from the rack is the shadow as it falls.

I bolt upright.

Jesus fucking Christ on a nuclear-powered pogo stick, it's bad enough I've started to have work-related failure dreams after starting my new job. An actual death dream scares the hell out of me. I've never dealt with mortality very well since my Bubbeh died all those years ago. Each time sometime close in the family passes away, I have panic attacks for months until my brain deals with the trauma. The end of the dream hit all my triggers at once. Nothingness. Non-existence. The end of everything, not even a spark of consciousness in the void as my pulped brain lost the last vestiges that was Me. Nothing could be worse than that.

A plaintive mreowl calms me down. Soft fur butts my hand as my cat demands attention for having been startled awake. I absently scritch her behind one ear as she flops down for the worship that is due a feline of her station. A rough tongue licks my fingers when she grooms me in turn. Esther was the result of another round of mortality-fear. I adopted her after losing another pet and an aunt within a few months of each other. The familiar ritual of two minutes of petting before I stumble out for a breakfast and shower before work calm me down. I reach out to flick off the alarm switch on the digital clock on the small table beside my bed. No way I'm going back to sleep for however much time remains before life calls me back.

My fingers brush cloth.

The hell?

I pat around with my free hand as Esther seizes the other between her front paws for a game of "gnaw the staff's hand off".

There's some kind of barrier all around me. It feels like a...canopy?

I hear the clink of what I will later learn is the sound of flint striking steel. Light blooms faint and golden from a candle wick. It reveals that I seem to be in some kind of bed with a canopy drawn shut on all four sides. Which I don't have. Hah. I have a second-hand mattress from my sister on a slightly busted metal frame. The curtain is rich silk in gold and red with lions embroidered all around. The bed beneath me is much softer than any bed I've slept in, I realize. Bells ring in my ears as I turn my head towards the light. I can see. I've been blind as a bat without my glasses for thirty years. I shouldn't be able to see the blonde moppet sitting upright beside me, tears still staining her cheeks, as she holds the candle up. The bells become a warning siren screaming RED ALERT as I make out the lion heraldry on her nightgown.

My hands fly to my face. They find features not at all like those I've lived with during forty three years on Earth.

"My lord husband. Emmon," the girl says. "Are you alright?"

I stare at the seven year old features of Genna Lannister, lying next to me, and begin screaming.

[Just to head off any pedobears: no, not even Walder is that screwed up to have Genna Lannister be bedded when wed at seven. It's the same arrangement where nothing was expected to happen "that way" between Tommen and Maergery when they were wed.]

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Dec 20, 2015

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Dec 20, 2015

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#16

You bastard. Whoever you are: God, Skippy the Alien Space Bat, Q, whatever sadistic douchebag of a ROB who thought it would be amusing to send me here and make me this. I had a mother. I had a sister and nephews. Gone. Eternal darkness would have better than replacing my family with Walder Frey and his merry band of ferrets-in-a-sack that is my blood-kin. Fragmented memories that must have been canon Emmon's come to me. He had an even more miserable time than I had as a bullied misanthropic nerd with self-diagnosed Aspergers while he was growing up in the Twins. Now I've got to swallow my own vomit and call that weasel "Daddy".

I'm vaguely aware that I've finished off smashing every chair in the room with my bare, bleeding hands. The filth spewing from my mouth is a mix of Yiddish, Quebecois blasphemes, and every English insult that I ever came across. It makes the violent rage I felt at my dad's shiva when asked to say the mourning prayers seem like annoyance at a parking ticket in comparison. There's more screaming in the background. A little girl, by the sound of it. I'm well over the event horizon and approaching the singularity of despairing fury right now. I ignore it. I concentrate on reducing the chair leg in my fists into atoms.

They say a hanging concentrates a mind wonderfully.

So does the door being flung open and finding yourself staring down the tiller of a crossbow. Then staring into cool, gold-flecked eyes that are aiming a very sharp iron-tipped quarrel at your face.

Ten years old, and Tywin Lannister is already able to eyefuck with the best of them.

I hang my head between my knees as the price of my rage claims its due. Cold shudders and a stomach as roiled as the narrow sea in autumn leave me unable to stand upright. In between the end of my primal scream therapy and the near-fainting spell I'm under now, someone bandaged up my battered hands with cloths of linen and some kind of paste. It must be the Rock's maester. I forget the name I looked up for the Girl Genius crossover timeline I did over on . Vywell? Hell, this is forty eight years before canon. The maester in charge could have changed once or twice in the background that George "All Men Must Die" Martin never bothered to write about.

In less than fifty years, ice zombies are coming to eat my face.

The very real prospect of the Long Night coming down the pike is still less threatening than Tywin Lannister's crossbow aimed at my head. That's what I call irony, folks. His little brother Kevan is right beside him with a wooden longsword waster. It would be cute if the elder of the Lannister brothers wasn't raping my very soul with his stare. Genna's curled up against him weeping into his shoulder. Shame shudders through me at the trauma I put her through. She's a little girl, for God's sake. Only a year older than my nephew. I must have terrified her out of her mind. She must think I'm going to be one of those husbands who leave bruises on their wives.

Me. Married. I've always joked I don't need a girlfriend. I already have a needy dependent constantly badgering me for attention in Esther. Now I've headed straight into Chris Hansen territory.

A handsome man with a golden beard about ten years younger than me sweeps past the guards backing up Tywin. No wait, I'm using my old life's standards. To Emmon he's in his thirties. Twice his age. He's clearly been roused from bed. His crimson doublet is rumpled and his breeches are half-laced. Another fragmentary memory tells me this is Tytos Lannister, the Laughing Lion and Lord-Paramount of the West. Yay, me. First time meeting royalty. Or the closest equivalent thereof. His green eyes have none of cold contempt in his heir's.

"My boy, what happened?"

"Night terrors," I rasp out, through the frog lodged in my throat. "Been having them on the ride from the Twins. Waking up in a strange place must have triggered me."

"Ah, yes," Lord Lannister says. "I well understand the fear of a newlywed. Why, my first night with my Jeyne-"

"Why do we suffer him to stay?" Tywin says. "If he is so cowardly as to fly into frenzy at a mere dream-"

"Oh, blow me, kid," I snap. "You have no idea what the hell I'm going through. I don't care if you're the one most likely to be nominated to rule from the throne of skulls you'll make from the heads of your enemies, the utter shitstorm that has consumed my life is beyond your comprehension. "

I may have a slight anger management problem. Inheiriting my dad's caustic sense of humour doesn't help matters.

"Ah, mayhap we should leave you in peace," Tytos says.

"Mayhaps you should." I rub my temples. "Trust me, the fact I've married a freaking child is just the turd cherry on top of the shit sundae that is my life right now."

Genna cries even louder.

"Oh hell, I didn't mean-" I glare at Tytos. "Seven hells, pal, you couldn't have just settled for a long betrothal until she flowered or something? She's seven years old! She should be playing with dolls and making flower chains or whatever little girls do. Instead you had her hitched right off because you wanted to please Walder Frey, you schmuck?"

"I have no idea what this 'schmuck' means, good-son, but-"

"It means you're an idiot!" I yell. "'Oh, Walder's a good fellow'. Seriously? The man's living proof that you can cram ten pounds of shit in a five pound sack. The reason he's not here is because he's too busy raping one of your chambermaids or something."

Um. There's a seven year old girl right in the room with me.

Maybe dial it back a few magnitudes?

"My lord of Lannister," I say, trying desperate to sound vaguely Westerosish, "my courtesies have fled from me this night. Please, take your daughter to some place where she can find comfort. I will collect myself in time. Genna, really, I'm sorry. You're a lovely girl-oh God, that sounds so wrong, delete that. It was my responsibility. Should have sent back that raven telling Walder to piss up a rope for such a crazy idea."

"I, er, yes, leave you alone, perhaps send the maester with some dreamwine." Tytos backs away with a nervous smile from his crazy son-in-law. Genna is pulled away in tow, staring at me.

I'm left alone in the room with Tywin. Still staring at me.

I sigh.

"What?"

"Throne of skullls?"

"Go forth and embrace your destiny, kid."

Last edited: Jan 30, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Dec 22, 2015

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#32

I'd read Bill Bryson's At Home not too long before I came here. It made the point that much of what modern people like me take for granted as defining a home took a long time to develop. Little things like hot showers and baths at the turn of the tap. It turns out in Westeros that a bath involves standing in a copper washbasin with a kettle of soapy water beside you. The rinse cycle involves another bucket of cold water. Unless you want to wait an eternity for the servants to boil and carry hot water from the kitchens to fill the bath, by which time it's gone lukewarm. Oh, and that soap? We aren't talking Irish Spring, here.

Then there's the, uh, evacuation functions.

Residual memories from Emmon's mind pointed me to an alcove carved one of the walls. There was an elaborately carved seat upon which there was a lid in the inevitable hole in the middle. Gingerly, I lifted up said lid to reveal a shaft tunneling down into the rock. A certain pungent odor rose up out of it. The line about Tyrion being put in charge of the drains and cisterns of Casterly Rock now seemed the horrible burden that canon Tywin had intended it to; this internal garderobe probably lead to a common sewer that had to be...reamed clear, every so often. My gaze drifted to the ewer of water and the type of brush that in my old life would have been used to clean the bowl.

Oh, hell no. Screw gunpowder, screw the printing press, screw vaccination.

The first uplifting on the schedule? Flush toilets and toilet paper.

God, I needed coffee.

GRRM never mentioned that existing in the novels, now that I thought of it.

Dammit.

Casterly Rock was a weird cross between Versailles and a missile bunker. I'd been to visit the former a few years ago with my mom not long after my father died. We'd done it as a last hurrah to all the points they had accumulated for trips they had wanted to take before the diagnosis came in. The opulence of the Rock's appointments easily matched those I'd seen at the crash pad of French royalty. Everywhere there were tapestries, statues, exotic artifacts and of course gold. I mean, seriously, the gold addiction of a Discworld dwarf was nothing compared to that of the Lannisters. Veins of the stuff had been left in the walls that had once been mineshafts for a natural marbling effect. The message was that they had so much in their coffers that leaving a little behind for decoration was a bagatelle they could afford.

What was in short supply were windows and sunlight. Look, I understood that glass was a luxury item at Westeros' tech level. But would it have killed them to put in a skylight or light-shaft while they were renovating their mine into a castle? There were torches and oil lamps aplenty. There must be a small army of smallfolk whose only job was to keep them going. It was still gloomy as hell. Gloom of great taste and refinement, of course. It still brought home how much light even a feeble 40W bulb had compared to the light sources here. The Lannister sigil shouldn't be a lion. It should be a mole.

Which is one joke I wouldn't be making while Tywin was alive unless I was in orbit, isolated in hard vacuum, and speaking Welsh.

I almost as nervous confronting my spanking-new father-in-law. Sweat dappled my grey and blue woolen tunic with the badge of the Twins embroidered onto it. Vicious temper or no, I have a habit of deferring to authority figures. The bosses at work are called "sir" unless I am sure that more familiarity is acceptable. And Tytos Lannister was essentially a Duke with the power of pit and gallows over the entire Westerlands. Due process here was "whatever the hell I feel like interpreting the king's law, and maybe a fun gladiator fight to settle matters if it amuses me." Yeah. I wasn't getting a free phone call and clamming up until Legal Aid showed up. The oubliettes that Jaime had threatened Edmure with in canon loomed large in my imagination.

Two red-cloaked guards in helms crested with roaring lions snapped to attention when my guide brought me to two great doors made of-wait, you'll never guess it, this will surprise the hell of out you-gold that had been carved into a bas-relief of a roaring lion. Their halberds crossed to bar entry as the man who had been sent to summon me for a probable roasting knocked on the door. He disappeared for a moment before I was allowed in. I squinted a little when I stepped inside. Weak sunlight streamed through a plate glass window high in the wall that was a riot of crimson and gold heraldry. More of the fabulous wealth of the Lannisters was on display: what had to be Myrish rugs softening the natural stone, heavy furniture carved from oak and exotic woods from the Summer Isles, Essosi valuables, and holy hell his wife was a MILF.

The fact that I was now fourteen was now very, achingly clear as teenage hormones reacted to Jeyne Marbrand. The Lady of Casterly Rock was a striking woman in her thirties in a dark-green gown embroidered in delicate gold and silver thread. Dark brown hair cascaded down her shoulders. Eyes of a similar hue stared at me with an intensity that hinted that some of Tywin's soul-raping glare came from his mom. Her husband sat beside her trying to look as stern. Tytos didn't pull it off, really. I mean, he had the regal beard that resembled the mane of his house's symbol. He wore a severe doublet and breeches with plenty of chains and jewels to remind me how much richer his house was.

He still looked guilty as hell. As if he were at fault.

...actually, hell yeah, he was. Screw my nervousness, I stood by what I`d said last night.

Genna Lannister sat on a bench nearby with Esther in her lap. My cat purred as the moppet petted her. Seriously, Genna was an adorable girl even with a little curl in the middle of her forehead. She was a bit of a chubster-hinting what she`s become much later on-but cute as a gold button all the same. I paused for a second when I saw Esther being so accepting of another`s touch. My mom and aunt had always said she had hissed at them whenever they came over to feed her when I was on an overnight trip. She used to run from anyone she encountered when roaming outside.

Never mind that. I`d decided to risk it all. I wasn`t all that hot a liar. And it was too dangerous to beat around the bush. Even if they had me locked into a cell as an obvious lunatic, spilling my guts about what would be coming down the pike might just help. I`d tell them I was-

-suddenly, Esther shifted.

"Are you now afraid of cats now too, good-son?" Jeyne said, as the thing that Esther had become for a split-second became just another pike-coloured tabby.

"No, not at all." I smiled faintly, as I banished all treacherous thoughts of telling the truth from my mind.

I'd just gotten a warning...

Last edited: Jan 3, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Dec 22, 2015

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#54

Estherthullhu had saved my ass.

I have this tendency of locking down on one option when in a crisis. I rush into it disregarding other ones. Sometimes this helps, like when I decided to push a broken scooter several kilometers back to town instead of helplessly waiting for aid. Other times? Not so much. I've disclosed too much information when convinced it was the right thing to do, or inadvertently made things harder by opting for action over more consideration. Blurting out the reality of what I was and the knowledge I had to Tytos Lannister might or might not help. But ending up locked in one of the Rock's oubliettes for sounding like a lunatic definitely would not help my credibility.

Okay. So, my pet is an eldritch abomination somehow connected with whatever brought men here. Either she was always one who decided to resurrect me out of some wacky feline form of altruism. Or she was an it that had taken the form of my pet to better camouflage itself in my life. Well, the latter wouldn't exactly be new. Esther was a cat. She was always an eldritch abomination who purred. So now I either have whatever-it-is keeping a direct eye on me, or it has one of its minions acting as minder so that I don't pull a Cassandra.

Which leaves me to figure out some kind of convincing bullshit to tell Tytos.

Okay.

Um.

Maybe lie with the truth?

"My lord of Lannister," I say, bowing. "I deeply regret airing certain opinions before your daughter and son. That isn't done."

"Yet you stand by your words, good-son?" my mother-in-law said with more than a little frost.

"I would be the first to agree with your son that this was not the finest match," I replied. "I am the second son of a house far inferior to both your houses, my lord and lady, in both pedigree and reputation. If it would so please my lady wife, I would be willing to petition the High Septon and Most Devout in Kings Landing to annul the match. It hasn't been, uh, consumated. Really. God, no."

"That really would not be wise." Sweat dappled on Tytos' brow. "It would be so divisive and...public. Surely such a brash decision should be avoided."

"I hate him. He's a schmuck!"

All of us turned to Genna, whose jaw was thrust out in a determined manner.

"They just grow up so fast, don't they?" I mock-wiped a tear from my eye. "And then they do you proud. I bet she'll be as big a terror as her big brother."

"That was not befitting the courtesies of a young lady," Jeyne scolded. The slight upturn of a mouth hinted at repressed laughter.

"No, she's right. There's no excuse for scaring her," I said. "Genna, I have been having terrible dreams of the Others for years now."

A glance at Esther. The tip of her tail flicked.

"Last night, I dreamed I was a ranger on the wall," I continued. "I saw the Others came from the haunted forest. I tried to sound the horn, but it cracked when I blew it. I tried to loose arrows of dragonglass at them. My bow string snapped. I tried to warn my brothers, but I could not speak. I could only watch as the Wall came down as I failed utterly."

"Dragonglass?" Tytos asked.

Esther regarded me silently. Okay, you could hint.

"A tidbit I read somewhere as a child. It was in an old scroll I never found again."

"That must have been scary," Genna said, shivering.

"It was. I'm not your big brother." I winked. "I bet Tywin would have just gave them one long look, tossed a bottle of wildfire at them, and walked dramatically in slow motion away from the holocaust."

No reaction from Esther.

"He would have!" Genna said, her head high. "He'll be the hero of the Seven Kingdoms some day."

God. That made my heart crack.

"Jeyne, surely you can forgive our good-son for this?" Tytos asked.

"Only if it never happens again," his wife replied.

"It won't. One time thing. Cross my heart," I said, doing that over the badge of the Twins. "Look, six centuries ago my ancestor looked across a spot on the Green Fork deemed impassable. Yet he dared to build a bridge over it. It took three generations to do it. But since then the Twins have stood firm over the waters. Could we try that here?"

"I-" Jeyne Marbrand cocked her head. "Good-son, you do not sound much like the boy I met a week ago."

"What, I'm not that thin streak of piss who married your precious golden child?" I said.

Genna giggled.

"Amazing," Tytos said, smirking behind the rim of his cup. "You have it right word for word."

"I may have been hasty in my judgements," Jeyne said, blushing furiously. "What I mean to say is that you sound more...mature."

"Well, you might say I have an old soul now," I said.

Esther purred.

"Genn, yesterday must have been the worst day of your life," I said to her. "All I can say is that I'll do my best to help you become the amazing woman I know you can be."

"Alright." Genna petted Esther. "But I still think you're a schmuck. And Tywin will cut you into itty bitty pieces if you ever scare me again!"

Well, it was a start.

Genna and I walked hand in hand with the dignity of highborn newlyweds into one of the feasting halls of the Rock. Like everything else in Martinland, the Lannister seat is insane when it comes to scale. The feasting hall for the breakfast was a vast cavern within the Rock that sparkled with the usual array of riches of Lann the Clever's descendants. It was so big that it doubled as a tourney grounds. Winter had come not a few months before after a short autumn, according to Emmon's memories. Holding a tourney outside in the bitter cold and sleet of a Westerlands winter wasn't on. So Tytos had arranged for a smaller one within the Rock itself.

Right now the hall was laid out for breakfast. Genna and I sat at the high table at the head of the cavern. Powerful vassals sat at tables draped in embroidered coverings of cloth of gold. Among the great and powerful were the Reynes and Tarbecks. Lord Roger Reyne sat resplendent in velvet and silks in a seat nearest to the high table. He was a powerfully-built man of an age with Tytos. Strawberry-blonde hair fell to his shoulders. His face twisted in ill-disguised contempt when he looked my way. Another memory of Emmon's revealed why he had been so pissed off at Genna's betrothal. Lord Reyne had cornered a shaking Emmon a day after his arrival, hissing that Genna's hand had been meant for his house. His sister Ellyn Tarbeck smirked at me and tittered behind her hand to the aged Walderan Tarbeck at her side.

Just wait, fuckers. Your time's coming.

Then I saw the girls and boys of the Reynes and Tarbecks sitting among them. Damn, these kids were all going to die in less than ten years. Horribly. Drowned, their heads mounted on spears, tossed out on the ends of nooses out of the windows of a burning Tarbeck Hall. I still thought Tywin was justified in beating them down-he had to, in the cut-throat politics of Westeros-even if going full Mongol on them made my stomach do a loop-de-loop. It brought home how early in time I had been sent. Tywin was a child whose values hadn't completely hardened. Not had the Reyne and Tarbeck's defiance lead to that final step that lead to their extermination. Tyrion, Jaime, and Cersei were years away from being born.

Maybe I could do something to stop it all?

Check, this was Westeros. I was probably screwed from the get-go of any positive influences.

I frowned into my cup of morning ale.

"Heh. Didn't want to wait until she flowered before sampling the crop, eh, boy?"

I looked up into the smirking face of my father in this reality. Genna blushed furiously as he leered at her.

"Shut your whore mouth about my wife, you piece of smegma that walks like a man. I know it's on the very edges of possibility. But maybe try to pretend you're a human being for once."

Silence descended over the feasting hall.

...at this rate, my personal arms will be a broken bridge. On fire.

Last edited: Jan 3, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#78

I had a father in my old life. We had our differences, true. I was not the best son in many ways. He had his feet of clay like most everyone. I did mention that my overly sarcastic sense of humour and temper comes from him, yes? Yet he never struck me save for a few spankings. He never demanded that I follow in his foot-steps as a lawyer. Only that I do my best in school to prepare myself for a life to fulfill the potential he saw in me. That I didn't came down to my own issues with organized education. He respected my decision to stop going to temple services even as he became more observant.

None of which describes the childhood Emmon Frey had under Walder. I thought I had it bad in school as a misanthropic nerd who had no social skills? That was a bagatelle compared to the kettles of crap that Emmon had to swallow from his own father. I don't even think the words that just left my mouth were mine. I think they were Emmon's, rising up on our mutual loathing of this man before us. That I'm supposed to knuckle down and take it from this jackass under the laws of gods and man doesn't register right now. I mean, the worst has already happened to us. I died. Actually died, went into the outer darkness, tasted the oblivion of the Omega. Emmon? Even worse, my consciousness tore his to shreds like Illyria did when its demonic essence invaded Fred's.

That said, oh god oh god am I screwed. This isn't the decrepit Walder of 299 AC that Catelyn encountered at the Twins when Robb had to split his forces. And that Walder was deadly enough to scheme his way out of treason-and worse, backing the wrong horse-in the rebellion against the Iron Throne. This Walder is a hale and hearty man in his forties who was trained in arms as any lord is. He's certainly not anything close to the weight class of a Barristan or Jaime. But he's much more skilled than I ever was at martial arts, which consists of one semester's classes of karate at CEGEP. Or Emmon's, whose time as page and squire to his elder brother Stevron could be described as a three hour tour on the SS Failboat.

Oh yes, he also has his personal guard. The Freys might be treacherous weasels. But they can back it up with teeth when backed into a corner.

"Goodbrother," Tytos says, mouth set in a horrified rictus, "your son is not himself. He suffered great terrors which has overwhelmed his courtesies-"

On the other hand, as Olenna Tyrell said, there's no use trying to squirt the milk back up into the udder.

And there is no goddamned way I am letting this bastard shame Genna.

"My lord, the fault is mine," I say, drinking deep from the ale-horn. "And I meant what I said. I will not let anyone-even my father-cast filth in the presence of my lady-wife."

"You think you can hide behind the skirt of a Lannister cub, boy?" Walder growls. "Think that you are suddenly free of the respect you owe your family?"

"Family loyalty. You always go on about that," I say. "Damn, you're great at pulling our strings like puppets. 'Family is all that matters'. It'd be more impressive if your reindeer games with currying favour among your heirs is going to end up with its own little Targaryen/Blackfyre civil war a few years down the line."

Walder's answer is a thunderclap that leaves my head spinning.

Oh yeah, I definitely underestimated Walder's strength.

"If you'll excuse me, Tytos, it appears I have to discipline my son," Walder says. Two guardsmen flank him. "He thinks he's a man grown and a lord besides, to shame me before all."

"Shame you?" I say through broken lips. "Man, that's rich. Newsflash, Walder: I am proud to be a Frey. They call us toll-keepers? Hell, the Twins will be standing tall long after even the Rock's mines run out. It'll be providing a vital link between the North and the banks of the Green Fork. What I am ashamed of is you."

My answer is another thunderclap that sends me into the space outline by the U formed by the breakfast tables.

"The stoatling has more spirit than we thought," comes a voice I vaguely recognize-threw all the bells ringing in my head-as Lord Reyne's. "Truly, you should retire Old Toad and put him in motley. He's a better jester than any I've seen."

"Fools tell hard truths under their jokes, Reyne." I stagger to my feet. Ow. But a few crashes as a scooterist have gotten me used to dealing with under rubber-side up. "And better pray Tytos doesn't decide to wash his hands of all the gold you owe him and sell the note to the Iron Bank."

Walder Frey pauses. Er, both of him. Hello, concussionland.

There`s a most peculiar expression on his face: hate that is mixed with surprise.

"I can do that?" Tytos asks.

"Sure. It's what bookmakers who have gamblers who've gotten too far behind do." Memories of reading a book by a mob hitman who revealed the tricks of the trade come back to me. "Why bother breaking bones when you can sell the debt to a shy-uh, usurer-for stags on the dragon? Let it be the Iron Bank's problem. Or if you want to keep it in-house, sell the debt to the Greyjoys."

"My lord, surely you would not listen to such copper-counter's words!" come the decidedly panic-stricken words of Ellyn Tarbeck.

"Oh, I think you should, Lannister." Walder's expression has gone from rage to glee. "Heh. Aye, this turd that dropped from my wife's arse into the cradle speaks a little sense. You've yet to pay the dowry for little Genna. And paper is so much lighter than gold. I'll take the debts as her dower, for as much as you would have paid out in coin."

Ellyn Tarbeck is definitely regretting the choice of her gown-very low-cut-when Walder gazes upon her vast tracts of land.

"In fact, I insist among the debts are those of Lord Tarbeck," Walder says, licking his lips.

Oh yeah, I see a naughty septa costume in her near future.

Someone wraps an arm of mine over their shoulder. It's Tywin, who has brought a full platoon of red cloaks with him. I realized that this is very important given how the assembled lords of the Westerlands are regarding me. At least, the ones who owe Casterly Rock a lot of gold. If looks could kill, Reyne and his vassals would have me buried deep in some abandoned mine in a forgotten corner in the West. Lord Tarbeck regards me as if I've crawled out from under a rock. Well, along with clearly realizing that he's balls-deep in debt to a lord who hates Old Money and whose house words are "Pay the Toll". That realization is also spreading among Tytos' debtor bannerman with the speed of a grass fire on the bone-dry Dothraki sea.

Then I see something worse that will haunt me to the end of my days in this life.

Tywin Lannister is grinning from ear to ear.

Last edited: Jan 3, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#97

Waking up in unfamiliar surroundings is becoming a bad habit of mine.

An ache consumed the left side of my face as I clawed my way back to consciousness. I had no idea why I bothered. It would be so much easier to pass out again. Vague memories of stumbling into the depths of the Rock on Tywin's shoulder bubbled up from the swamp that was my brain. We went deep down into areas of Casterly Rock where I suspected dark deeds were done in the shadows. There had been a few encounters with men bearing picks and baskets slung over their shoulders. The mines? The sound of waves crashing nearby made me think of the caverns that penetrated the sea-side of the Rock. There had been an iron gate, then a short passage, and then-

-cobblestones?

Someone was curled up into the crook of my arm. Rust in my vertebrae creaked as I turned my head. Genna Lannister was huddled up against me in a demure night-dress. Between us was a ragged lion doll of golden felt whose mane is suffering a severe case of mange. I risked the agony for a goofy grin at the sight. It reminded me of the odd times I helped put my older nephew to bed whenever I was babysiting. I didn't do it often, to be honest. I wasn't the most attentive uncle. That thought sends another pang through me. The sense of loss is weaker. Maybe my Emmon-self is asserting itself. Or my subconscious is applying a heaping helping of repression.

I slowly wiggled free of the Genna-constrictor. I was still wearing the clothes I'd had at the breakfast. My stomach growled at me in annoyance for not even waiting for the first course before starting trouble. Trouble. That would be an understatement. More like the Storm God downed a bottle of Ex-Lax and copped a squat over the Westerlands. Tyrion Lannister at his most drunken TMI couldn't have picked more inflammatory words to unleash at a major public gathering. I suggested Tytos use the Iron Islands as his proxy debt collectors. For all I know, the Westerlands are on fire with a Reyne-Tarbeck rebellion nine years earlier than in canon. At the very least I was the most hated man in this part of the Kingdom. I have a more positive future as a galley slave in Yunkai.

Only I'm here.

"Here" being a nicely-appointed room with plastered walls and a wooden floor. The furnishings were nice enough, though several steps down from Casterly Rock standards. It was comfortable wealth without the ostentation: oak and well-made pine chairs and tables, a faded Myrish rug on the floor, some nice bits of Lannisport goldwork on the mantel of a hearth. A shuttered window with leaded glass in crimson and gold panes was across from me. I stumbled over to it to swing it wide. I shaded my eyes against the noon-light sun. It shone down from broken clouds on cobblestoned streets with half-timbered houses. There was the faint smell of the sea over woodsmoke. I recall Davos' characterization of Lannisport as a maiden with autumn flowers in her hair.

"Emm!" Genna sat up, grinning broadly.

"Hey Genn," I reply. "All's forgiven?"

"You were right!" Genna says. "Our wedding day was the worst day of my life, but it got so much better."

"I've been out of the loop for a bit, Genn," I said. "What happened?"

"Lord Smegma is calling in all of Pappa's loans," Genna replied, her curls bouncing. "He took all of Lord Tarbeck and Lord Farman's steeds and armor and weapons they brought for the tourney, and all the jewels of their wives and daughters too. He even had some ironborn at the harbor grab the ship Lord Farman sailed in from Fair Isle."

Panic y/n?

YYYYYYYYYYYY

"Oh, and then when Smegma's men went through Lady Tarbeck's chests," Genna continued, stroking her doll, "they found candlesticks from the Rock under her smallclothes. She's been stealing our things like she was the Lady of the Rock. So Mama had her stripped naked and her head shaved, and then marched her out at the heads of spears in a scold's bridle with a herald proclaiming her crimes."

"Did your big brother have any input on that decision?"

"'Input'?" Genna shrugged. "Lady Tarbeck is being sent to back to Castamere, since Lord Tarbeck had to sell all his lands and even his hall to the Smegmas. I think he's taking the black."

"How is Walder doing this?" I gasped.

"All the Lannisporter Lannisters and our guards are helping," Genna said. "They say Pappa isn't weak at all. That this was his plan all along to humble his bannermen. No one will take his gold now, I bet. Not unless they really want to pay it back. And you were part of it! You pretended to insult Lord Smegma, didn't you?"

"Yes. A cunning plan." I licked my lips. "Let's...go with that."

"You're the best husband ever." Genna grinned ferally. "I even got to pelt Lady Tarbeck with dung! Mama had all the smallfolk in Lannisport and the Rock lining the way out, with pails of dung."

"So, we're in a safe house?" I asked, rapidly calculating how fast I could catch the nearest ship for the Summer Islands. Or Asshai.

"We're in Uncle Jason's house," Genna said. "Only it's really where he keeps the serving girl and his bastard. He's downstairs waiting for you."

I'd read The World of Ice and Fire and consulted the ASOIAF wiki whenever doing fanfic research. Jason Lannister didn't ring a bell. Emmon's memories told me he was the youngest son of Gerold Lannister. Ah. Huh, he must be Stafford and Joanna Lannister's father. He would have to be, since Joanna was Tywin's first cousin. There's no hint in my host's memories about a naturalborn child. Either way, he clearly had an interest in hiding me from the entire nobility of the Westerlands who want to kill me. And ten-year-old-going-on-eleven Tywin either quickly worked out a plan with Jason or else had the smarts to smuggle me into a safe-house not directly connected to Casterly Rock. Which doesn't mean I'm safe, because this was sounding rather like the kind of "haven" that Tyrion had with Illyrio.

So nice to find myself slipping into Westerosi paranoia.

I kissed my wife on the brow before taking my leave. Outside the room was a short hall with another door across from me. Stairs lead down. I had to stop halfway down to arrest the spins. Oh yeah, Walder rung my bells nice and hard. The room below shared the same sense of comfortable well-to-do decor as the bedroom I'd been given as shelter. The smell of baking bread from an open door leading to what must be the kitchen roused my hunger. Seated by the hearth was a young girl a little older than Genna with the Lannister features, though her hair was dark-honey rather than gold. Reading to her was what must be her father.

Jason Lannister was ten years younger than his older brother. More to the point, he was a fierce hunter compared to Tytos. The figure beneath the crimson doublet with lion's head gold studs and tight leather breeches was one who constantly trained in the yard. Tytos wasn't the lardbowl he'd become when he fell into dissipation after his wife's death. But he didn't have the grace of a trained killer that I saw in Jason when he rose from his seat. He idly patted his natural-born daughter's head. She scurried into the kitchen to no doubt join her mother. Ser Jason stalked over to me with merriment in his green eyes.

"Well, well, well. Our friend of Frey. How you've set the fox among the chickens."

Perfect teeth gleamed.

"I think we must talk, you and I."

Panic y/n?

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Last edited: Jan 3, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#106

To commemorate the "Gold Wedding", this song is often sung in the Seven Kingdoms:

Who are you, the proud lord said,

that I should bow so low?

Why I am just a little stoat,

that's all the truth I know.

But I also to live within my means,

and pay the debts I owe.

Because even lions with their claws so sharp,

should learn to fear when margins are called.

Or else they quickly learn,

that a stoat has them by the balls,

For however rich your mines are still,

and however much you earn in rent,

your fucking ass is mine, you prick,

at a rate of twelve and a half percent!

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#114

"Stop," I said, raising one hand. "Before we begin with the plotting, priorities. Namely, food. Bacon, eggs, and so help me god there had better be coffee somewhere."

"Coffee?" Ser Jason raises an eyebrow. "Is this a Riverlands drink? I have never heard of it."

"It's a bean or looks like a bean," I said. "Maybe from the Summer Islands or from the east. You roast it, grind it up, make a kind of tea out of it."

"Oh! Wakebean. Yes, the maesters buy it from the Summer Islanders." Ser Jason grimaced. "Nasty concoction through it does perk one up-"

"GET ME IT NOW!" I seized his doublet in my fists. "IN THE NAME OF THE SEVEN AND THE OLD GODS, PLEASE!"

Seriously. I needed caffeine.

I slouched in my chair at the table in the ktichen. Before me was the remnants of what Ser Jason's serving-girl lover had been able to whip up to my idea of a diner-style breakfast. She was a buxom auburn-haired girl in her twenties whose full rear end Jason shamelessly fondled whenever she came in reach. Megga had been a maid at Casterly Rock before Jason had decided to practice the medieval equivalent of sexual harassment. This being Westeros, she had ended up dismissed from the Rock instead of winning damages in a wrongful-dismissal suit. I thought of Tysha's fate at the hands of Tywin twenty years down the line. Ending up as a single mother without a job in a society that would label her soiled was a better fate. Jason had slipped her a purse of stags as compensation, so she hadn't been utterly bereft. Apparently she had gotten by as a seamstress-not the "hem hem" kind-and tavern wench at one of the winesinks by the port.

It turns out she could whip up a mean omelette out of eggs, Dornish peppers, and fried onions.

Megga smacked Jason's wandering digits with one hand while swirling a skillet in the other. I had had no idea how you home-roasted coffee beans. My idea of a morning brew was whatever inexpensive blend that I had sitting in a can. I'd actually used to buy No Name Coffee-an actual brand-before they stopped carrying it at my local grocery store. I'd stepped up to Tim Horton's and McCafe to fuel my crusty twenty-buck drip machine. Although I had been trying out a moka pot of late, for a weekend perk-up that nailed my eyelids to the top of my skull. So I hadn't realized pan-roasting coffee produced a heck of a lot of smoke. There was a haze of it beneath the ceiling despite throwing the kitchen windows open to the chilly winter day.

Megga ground the beans to what I though was fine grind in a mortar and pestle. Our ghetto-style coffee-maker was a tin funnel with cheesecloth as a filter. It took all my willpower not to drink directly from the funnel rather than wait as the boiling water seeped through the ground into an earthernware mug. I tentatively sipped the result. It tasted like if it it was the distilled essence of what came out of Satan's schlong. The fizz in my brain at that little taste indicated that the caffeine content of wakebean was a wee bit higher than back on Earth. Then again, I've chugged the output of a six-cup moka pot all by myself. I diluted the devil's piss with fresh cream and a dribble of honey as a tiny concession to my tastebuds.

"How in the name of the Stranger can you drink that?" Jason asked.

"Most the nobility of the Westerlands wants me packraped by goats before gutting me." I saluted him with the first result of my uplifting project. "It's either this or chugging down rum. I have a feeling that I don't want to be drunk, as tempting as it is right now. L'chaim."

"You are not at all what I expected," Ser Jason said. "My goodsister wondered at how a lad of your age spoke like one twice his years."

Esther twined between my ankles.

"A man has to have some mysteries," I said, letting her lick a dab of cream off a fingertip. "And you're not denying that I'm a walking dead man."

"Oh, I assure you, within Lannisport you are safe," Ser Jason said. "My brother may be wroth-well, as much as he can be-but those of us who still have lion's hearts value your cleverness."

"So cunning a plan you could shave a cat with it." I mock-twiddled a Snidely Whipstache. "You know I'm just the pebble who landed in the right spot to start the landslide? If you're looking for a smooth political mover and shaker, I am not your man."

"Oh, you're quite the bull in the pottery," Ser Jason said. "We half-think you a Crakehall. Whatever the truth, your outburst has ripped open a mortifying wound before it could poison us beyond all recovery."

"Wait. Genna said that her mother has been issuing orders." The caffeine had finally woken me up at last. "You've taken control of the guards along with the Lannisters of the town. The Freys are shaking down the westerlords without any comeback. What is Tytos doing?"

"My brother is in distress." Ser Jason looked away. "The maester gave him dreamwine. Jeyne has taken command with the...advice of your father."

Oh.

Oh fuckity fucking fuck.

"Given the events, he has granted me the powers of Warden of the West," Ser Jason continued. "As such, I have decided that matters of late qualify as a threat to the king's peace."

My coffee grew cold as I thought that the signature on that decree might not pass muster if checked too thoroughly.

"We have sent a raven to King's Landing," Ser Jason said. "The king has oft expressed concern of conditions here in the west. No doubt he will support my brother's wise decision."

"Ave dictator," I whispered.

"Stay here. Stay hidden. By the Seven, stay quiet!" Ser Jason said. "My men are about, guarding this house. Should you require aught, ask Megga. She is an understanding woman, if you wish a girl-I was your age once-"

"Oh hells no, I'm not cheating on Genna with a whore." I waved my free hand. "Not with Tywin as my brother-in-law. It'll be Mrs. Palm and her five merry daughters until Genna decides whether or not to bed me."

"'Mrs. Palm'. Hah. You have wit to go along with your blunt speech." Ser Jason bowed. "I must be off. Matters to attend to.'

I sipped my cold coffee to the bitter dregs. I was a pretty, pretty fractal butterfly, wasn't I? All fluttering and washing away any semblance of canon away in a flash flood that could have floated the Ark. Esther hopped into my lap to lick cream off the tabletop. I bet she'd won many many quatloos off of the chaos I'd sown with a few choice words. Way back I had read Edward Luttwack's classic work Coup d'etat: A Practical Handbook. I'd forgotten most of the specifics. But what Jason had described was a classic palace coup. Tytos sedated, Jason seizing dictatorial powers as Warden of the West independent of the Lord-Paramountcy, the Freys being the outside muscle-it was an improvised power grab that had worked because the major opposing faction was concentrated in a vulnerable situation. Guest right meant no harm would be done between host and guest. Like that classic line about the fuzziness regarding kneecaps, preventing your assets from being seized and lands confiscated might not count as "harm".

Ashemark was in that cluster of lordships in the north, wasn't it? Oh, I bet Lady Jeyne had sent a raven winging to her father's castellan telling him to muster the troops for an advance on the Tarbeck and Castamere lands. Emmon's memories and my revised suspicions suggested Ellyn's humiliation was Walder's idea rather than Tywin's. Probably she insulted him when he suggested she work off her debt on her back. It just might be probable she had been arrogant enough to have pilfered those candlesticks. Although I wouldn't put it past Walder to have planted the evidence. Either way, I had a feeling that she would have a sudden lethal cold being marched naked through the mountains in winter. Or else a convenient bandit attack which left her dead. Her brothers were very likely "guests" enjoying the "hospitality" of the Rock...unless on their way back to Castamere on foot.

Yeah, bandit attacks were going to spike up in the next few weeks.

I heard Genna and Lymora playing in the main chamber of Megga's home.

I thought of the children who had died at Tarbeck Hall and Castamere in canon.

I hoped that whatever deaths could be laid at my doorstep justified their survival.

Last edited: Jan 3, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#164

I missed the Internet so much.

I used to stay inside for hours in my apartment even when it was sunny outside. That was when I could distract myself with having a few browser tabs open to forums, TVtropes, and a number of other distractions. The options for the week I'd spent confined in Megga's house had been much more limited. Books Jason had had smuggled to me from Casterly Rock's libraries had been good diversions. One of my favorite things to do is curl up with a novel or interesting piece of history. Reading Nymeria's Thousand Ships and various tales of knightly derring-do had been fun. Although the forms of fiction were older, nothing like anything of the modern novel in them. I'd also spent some time sampling a few books on engineering and other such subjects just to see what was state of the art in Westeros. I had also asked for as detailed maps as I could of a certain area of the Westerlands. An idea had been germinating for a while related to a big project I'd thought about before in fanfics.

It was still hell not being able to go out for a walk around Lannisport without risking my many, many enemies jumping me. For a guy who hates exercise, I did love long ambles around town. There was nothing better than wandering about, stepping into interesting shops, and maybe lying down in the sun on a bench to read. This was the third-largest city on the continent. There were sights like the Golden Sept, the manses of the petty nobility and merchants, and ships by the docks that were right out of my world's history books. There was the possibility of sailing on the Sunset Sea when summer came. Heck, I had dabbled with kayaking a few times in life. I could probably have a local boatwright knock together one that could let me paddle around the harbor. The promise of even more impressive places like Oldtown and Braavos tantalized my imagination.

All that was based on a life where a significant number of people didn't want to hire the Faceless Men-all of them-to grass my ass.

Then last night I had looked out the open window at the stars.

My breath huffed out in white clouds as I climbed through a trapdoor onto the roof. It was looking to be a cruel, cold season according to Megga's judgement. It wouldn't have phased me much back home. A Montrealer used to Canadian winters that could go down to -30C and snow drifts that swallowed cars laughed at Lannisport's idea of winter. Of course, that was when I had had 21st century warm clothing and electric heating. The many woolen layers I had bound myself in weren't nearly as good as my trusty Kanuk. I manhandled the telescope-sorry, I was not calling it a "far-eyes"-into position on the lip of the trapdoor jamb. I waited some time for my night vision to adjust from the light of the shuttered lantern I had used getting up here. Then I peered into the eyepiece.

Damn. I had never been into astronomy much in my old life. Light pollution in the city prevented me from doing much skygazing. No car license meant that trips outside the city weren't in the cards. Still, the few times I had seen the night sky of Earth in all its glory had been intoxicating. I remembered being drunk on wonder one night at camp seeing the Milky Way blaze above the grounds. I could pan the telescope from one horizon to the other without any light from town marring the view. The only brightness was the fire on the beacon at the summit of Casterly Rock. The Citadel-grade telescope that Jason had gotten me from the Rock's maester was at least as good as Galileo's. It was likely even better. The maesters were dead-serious about celestial observation. They had worked out the practicalities-and probably the theories-of optics long ago. I could make out the alien patterns on this world's moon, complete with a vast chasm that ran across its face. I could see clearly many details of the seven known wanderers.

"My lord?" Megga asked.

I looked down the ladder at another set of moons framed in her bodice.

Yes, teenage hormones were back in full swing.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," I said. "Also, please, call me Emmon in private."

"Yes...Emmon," Megga said, still hesitant about the implied insolence in using my first name. "I was awake myself when I heard you climbing to the attic."

"Taking a cure from the cabin fever," I said. "Megga, if I seemed distant lately, it's because I'm not the most social at times. I often retreat when I become overwhelmed."

"You have been far friendlier than any high-born in my house." Megga smiled mischievously. "Save Jason, mayhaps. Is my lady Genna to lose you to a master's chain?"

"Just trying something I should have long ago." I turned to eyepiece to her. "Hey, check this out. One of the planets in this system has to be a gas giant."

"A giant in the sky?" Megga shivered. "One must have climbed to the stars after his kind after they were driven past the Wall."

"Uh-" No, "Emmon", she isn't stupid. Don't make that mistake. "Here. See. It's a planet-another world-much larger than ours. It's sort of a giant sea of gas like the skin of air that surrounds our own world, only deeper and thicker. Those bands there? Those are rings. Thousands of tiny moons girdling it instead our one moon."

"This is another world such as ours, truly?" Megga said, glued to the telescope. "Such wonders! I never thought of them beyond being the Seven above us all."

"It's a big universe," I said. "The stars beyond are suns like ours with worlds swirling around them. See that? That's a nebula, maybe-a vast cloud of gas in which our solar system would be a mote of dust. Then there's galaxies like the one we're in, millions of suns gathered in groups."

"These are far above me to know," Megga said, jerking away from the eyepiece. "'Tis not for smallfolk to gaze up at the mysteries that only maesters can understand."

"Sky's free of charge, Meg," I replied. "So's knowledge. You might not have a maester in your house. But if you're ever curious, ask me and I'll find it out for you."

"Yes, my lord," Megga said in the voice of one humoring the crazy person. "You have a visitor from the Hill, Emmon. He awaits."

I had an idea who it might be. If it had been Jason, she wouldn't have been so formal about it. I collapsed the tripod and settled the brass tube into its leather case. Opening the shutters of the lantern, I descended the ladder from the attic to the second floor of the house. Outside my room was Tywin Lannister. He was in a dark cowl of black over subdued doublet and breeches that were still better than anything in Megga's wardrobe. Beside him was one of the Rock's guards in black mail and a brigandine rather than the showy livery they usually wore. The impassive, professional way he checked me for any hint of weapons or threat told me that taking away the red cloak didn't mean he was any less dangerous. Although the one who scared me was the ten-year old boy who was my brother in law.

Tywin's gold-flecked green eyes looked with mixed disapproval and fondness at the two girls sleeping my bed. Genna had come over for another visit with her lord-husband-still weird-and ended up having a girl's night in with Lynora. Honestly, I was thankful she had lost interest in me. She was a loveable kid. But still a kid. I had needed a fair bit of downtime after entertaining my nephews in my old life. I could read Tywin's thoughts as if they were subtitled: I love my sister, who shames me by spending time with this bastard girl. It was disconcerting to see this boy whose monstrous older version in canon show empathy-even muted-for anyone. It was a bit like coming across Hitler making out with Eva.

No. Let's not go Godwin, here. Tywin had become a monster in his prime. Yet there were plenty of monsters in Westeros that scared me far, far worse than him. I was going to be on the same planet as Euron Greyjoy, Ramsay Snow, and the freaking Others. Canon Tywin was damned-near reassuring in comparison to those. His propensity for violence was overblown by many. Unless you were a smallfolk about to become a sharp lesson, he bided his time and chose carefully when he lashed out. The chevauchee of the Riverlands in response to Tyrion's abduction had been an over-reaction. But he had also been under stress of the clearly anti-Lannister actions that Ned Stark had been doing in King's Landing at the same time. Ned's foolish refusal to disavow his wife's insane stunt hadn't helped. You could annoy Tywin quite a bit before you tripped his worst instincts.

Tywin nodded at me with all the majesty of a trueborn prince. Machiavelli's words came to me: "it is better to be feared than loved". I would have loved to see Tywin's reaction to reading Niccola's classic on realpolitick. We went downstairs to the common room where Megga had set up a trundle bed for me for the night. The guard stirred the fire. Tywin and I settled into chairs by the hearth. He cocked his head when he saw the papers on the table. Kid or no, a calculating mind that would in time give the realm twenty years of good governance and later two years of food for the crows analyzed the maps and charcoal sketches on parchment.

"Is this a bathtub?" Tywin asked.

Bingo. Uplifting achievement unlocked: getting his attention.

"It's an improvement on the navigation weirs that allow boats to pass millponds," I answered. "These angled gates here hold back the water pressure. Culverts and simple valves in the gates themselves-like a postern door-allow the water level to rise and fall without any pumps."

"Like a waterfall on a river?" Tywin picked the map of the northern reaches of the Westerlands. "I learned there are many on the Tumblestone, and many rapids too."

"Right now, any goods going down the Tumblestone go along the banks," I said. "One horse pulling a barge equals an entire mule-train. Make the Tumblestone navigable, and the lords there will be able to ship the fruits of their lands as if they were on the Trident."

"You want to take tolls from like at the Twins."

"No. This should be like the goldroad or riverroad," I said. "No one lord should profit when they all can. Lord Marbrand shouldn't be able to block the Westerlings or even the Reynes from using it."

"Lord Reyne will not have much to sell now." Tywin's lips quirked at the corners. Oh thank you whatever gods exist here, I don't have to deal with a grin that could freak out the Joker. "All the gold he owed us was sold to the Iron Bank, like you said. The Reynes had to sell half their lands to my grandfather."

"Didn't think Tytos had it in him." I poured a bottle of Dornish red into a pewter cup.

"I sold the debt. My father is ill." Tywin accepted watered Arbor gold from Megga, who quickly retired. "I rule for now as heir, with Lord Marbrand and Ser Jason as regents and advisors."

Fly, my little butterflies, fly!

"Father was going to send me away, for telling the truth." Tywin's chin jutted out. "He was marrying Genna to a Frey."

I quietly stared at him over the lip of my winecup.

"Although you are not as stoatish as I thought," Tywin continued, with that special innocent megalomania of unfiltered childhood. "You were as true a knight that ever was, defending my sister from your lord father. Name me what you want. A Lannister pays his debts."

I could ask for anything. Lands, gold, a future position on the Small Council if he becomes Hand in spite of the butterflies.

"One day, I am going to ask you something strange," I said. Esther watched me from the mantel, tail twitching. "You might laugh. You might think that I am talking about grumkins and snarks. But swear to me that you will do what I say, when I call in that favour."

"I swear by the Seven," Tywin said. He sipped more of his watered wine. "You could have asked me to make you a lord. I am going to tell grandfather to give you Tarbeck Hall. He owns it now after Lord Tarbeck had to sell it and all his lands."

"Make Genna the Lady of that estate," I said. "Although I think she should be an absentee landlady. What with the Reynes not exactly being the nicest neighbors."

"If they bother either of you, I smoke them out of Castamere like rabbits out of their den," Tywin said, gold-flecked eyes cold, "and then mount their heads before the gates of your hall."

"How nice." I smiled brightly. "Hey, know what's better than severed heads? Steam engines. Let's talk about that!"

Last edited: Jan 3, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#200

It was when Tywin's head drooped down to rest on his chest that I realized I might have overwhelmed the kid.

I like showing off. A couple of cups of wine make me gregarious. Even more so with the Dornish vintages, which are closer in potency to sherry. Combine that with not always getting social cues, and I often miss the signs that I've overloaded someone else's conversational circuits. Tywin had done his best to keep up with the full-frontal blast of random facts spewed by his know-it-all goodbrother. He had pretty much gotten THE FIREHOSE! I'd jumped around like that classic series Connections: from canals to the use of volcanic ash in cement to the durability of Roman roads. I think I also threw in Brunel's tunneling shield and the idea of horse-drawn railways running beneath King's Landing to reduce surface congestion. By some miracle I had not mentioned black powder or firearms. By the end he either thought I was the voice of the Smith or a complete madman.

He had lasted three hours beyond what was clearly his bedtime. The little prince became pure daaaawwww as he curled up in his chair. With his golden hair, he seemed like a little angel asleep on a cloud. That was a disconcerting thought given what I knew he had become in canon. Not to mention the monster he had birthed in Cersei. My eyes rested on the firepoker just within reach. The Rock guardsman was at the door keeping watch on the street. All it would take was one swing. It wasn't a serious thought, gods knew. More like the impulse you have sometimes at the edge of a height to throw yourself off. It was purely an abstract thought in the "what if I were sent back in time to kill Hitler in his crib?" category.

Probably was good for my continued survival that Megga chose that moment to carry Tywin upstairs to sleep with Genna and her daughter.

"Would you wish to take my bed, Emmon?" Megga asked.

"I thought you'd usually make that offer to Jason," I replied. I rubbed my face muzzily. "Sorry. Blame the drink. I'll ride the couch downstairs."

"Jason and I have not been together since he married." Megga smiled. She shifted her robe a little.

Er.

"I have seen your interest, my lord," Megga said. "We are not that far apart in years. You are nearly a man grown, and I know all of a man's urges."

"You're a very beautiful woman," I said, heat rising in my cheeks. Not to mention other things rising. "But I'm not sure an affair just a week after I was married is a good idea. Especially with a kid who defends his sister's honour with loaded crossbows."

"You have honour," Megga said. "I had hoped you would refuse me."

What?

"My lord, I beg you to take my daughter into your household." Megga drifted over to stroke her daughter's hair. "She has few prospects as a bastard, even with the coin Jason gave me. If you took her in as a handmaid to your wife, then she might find a good match some day."

"You were testing me." I flushed. "To see if I might be tempted by you, or by having Lynora around."

"I listened to you, Emmon." Megga slipped into her room, door half- open. "You have the heir to the Hill's favour. I know you to be kind."

"Not that good a guy, Meg," I replied. "Trust me, I have had my moments."

"We all do." Megga's expression blanked. "Jason did. I did not spend my time willingly in his bed the night he fathered Lynora. At least he was kind to me afterwards."

The door shut.

Well, damn.

No one can accuse the Lannisters of ignoring production values.

Casterly Rock rises from the sea like a great, craggy lion gazing out across the Sunset Sea. The approaches to the main gate is a ridge of rock that rises in a gradual slope where the goldroad, riverroad, and oceanroad meet a few hundred yards east of Lannisport. The path is broad, paved with flagstones, and open to the no-doubt numerous spitfires and scorpions aimed at anyone insane enough to brave such a natural free-fire zone. The original entrance to the Rock was a cave that was expanded into a mine by the ancestor of the extinct Casterlies. The Lion's Mouth now was a massive, roaring sculpture carved out of the living stone whose fangs are gold-plated iron that can drop down to form a portcullis. Murder holes within the Mouth itself were visible if you peered past the iron chandeliers bearing candles that sway in the ceiling. The gates within the throat were the height of a three story building: ancient wood that was now as hard as stone, clad in bronze and bearing golden bas-reliefs studded with precious gems. It's the sort of ridiculously overblown thing you get in a universe whose writer included two-hundred foot high stone walls created by incestuous lizard-riding ubermenschen.

Within the throat was an inner bailey whose size could have shamed cathedrals back home. I handed my horse to a groom who lead it off to one of the stables hewn out of the sides of the cavern. I shifted uneasily in my armor. Emmon Frey had brought his arms and armor with him on his trip to the wedding. I had chosen a gambeson over a dressy but effective brigandine of grey and blue leather covering castle-forged steel plates. I'd chosen boiled-leather breeches and thigh high boots of the same rather than more comfortable clothes. It was the same reason for the longsword and dagger sheathed at my waist. A short man who resembled a chipmunk with a tuft of a beard-Ser Harys Swyft, the Knight of Cornfield-darting me a murderous look.

Genna squeezed my hand reassuringly as trumpets blared. A herald in a tabard with Lannister arms upon it announced the arrival of Lady Genna Lannister of Tarbeck Hall and her lord husband Emmon Royce. Lord Smeghead was on the left side of the hall-the sinister one, of course-among his retinue and a large contingent of red cloaks separating him from the Westerland lords. The death-glare he shot me was much, much worse than Swyft's bolt had been. Accidentally turning the wedding into a chance to skin most of the guests out of their wealth had not gotten him to forgive me for my insolence. My public abandonment of his house's name for my mother's house was yet another slight. I absently fingered the new arms that Megga had embroided for me: a shattered bridge with the Smith's hammer above it.

The attitude of the Westerlands lords was worse.

Oh yeah, I should have worn my hauberk too. And arranged to have the red cloaks escorting me form a testudo.

I took my place to the right of the dais leading to the Lion Throne. The Lion Throne was the ancient seat of Lannister power within the great hall called the Golden Gallery. Whose walls were-guess what they were made of, the first two don't count. The Gallery was at least as big as the books had described the throne room at the Red Keep. Bigger, probably. Lady Jeyne stood by the base of the stairs in the raiment of the Lady of Casterly Rock. Ser Jason was at attention in gold-and-crimson armor with a cloth-of-gold cape streaming behind him. Emmon's memories told me that the lords nearest to the dais were Marbrand, Crakehall, and Westerling. All were loyalists who had not abused Tytos Lannister's generosity.

The trumpets blared in a grand fanfare.

Tywin Lannister rode the length of the Golden Gallery on a destrier in full barding. Probably an older and more complacent one, not likely to rear up suddenly. The heir to Casterly Rock's armor was a kiddie-sized version of the crimson and gold plate that his adult self had worn in the novels. Beside him rode his brother Kevan, acting as squire. The horse didn't leave an ironic dump on the purple carpet that ran from the entrance to the throne. Dismounting, Tywin handed his half-helm to his brother. All in attendance bowed deeply-reluctantly, among the rebel lords-to the heir of the Rock. The glory of the occaison was only slightly marred by the fact that Tywin had to mount a small stepladder to sit on the throne. His feet would have swung free above the floor without it.

Silence descended on the Golden Gallery as they waited for him to speak.

I grinned like a madman as I waited for the words I'd coached him in.

"My lords of the West, I have one question to ask you all: do you believe in angels?" Tywin said, steepling his fingers exactly how we'd rehearsed.

Jan 2, 2016

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#217

I thought it would be amusingly meta and funny to have Tywin act out the role that his alter ego Charles Dance did in the Discworld specials.

It was terrifying

This isn't a kid practicing before the mirrored glass in Megga's house. It was endearing the way he seemed so earnest about playing the grown-up. Slightly unnerving still given what I knew he'd become in canon. But it had been humorous as he read out the script in various ways trying to be the Stern Lord of the West. Only here it wasn't Stern Lord of the West. Tywin hadn't completely mastered his emotions. This wasn't the cold delivery of the Patrician of Ankh Morpork or the feared Hand of the King. Tywin's voice rose in anger as his features twisted in childish rage. You saw the hurt of the humiliation as he had watched his father piss away the reputation of the Lannister name. You saw the hate in his eyes as he swept the room with his gaze, focusing on each of the sources of his shame in turn. I suddenly was all too aware that this was a ten year old child given the power of life and death over an entire population.

Echoing back from a future that might not be-if I had my way-was the image of Joffrey Baratheon on the Iron Throne.

The attitude of the Lords of the West had shifted from hatred of me to horror of the bad seed sitting in judgement over them. Even his own mother clasped a hand over her mouth in shock as Tywin talked of angels. Sir Reynauld Reyne was whispering frantically in his lord brother's ear as the two of them realized their future was like a grain silo on a canola farm. It was about to become full of rape. A child's cry echoed up to the vaulted ceiling when Tywin gestured imperiously at the crowd. Ser Harys Swyft stumbled at the tips of red cloak spears to fall kneeling before the throne. A skinny slip of a girl shivered in the grip of one of the guards. Oh hell. That was Dorna Swyft. He couldn't actually mean to-

"Tell me, ser, do you believe in angels?" Tywin asked.

"I-my lord, I beg you, let me speak to your lord father-" Harys stammered out, his tuft of a beard bobbing like a hyperactive robin. "I never thought disrespect, he was granting loans with such generous terms, I was but one of many-"

"You don't admit it," Tywin snapped back. "You have no angel now. I can tell your daughter who she will marry. I have that right as your lord, when you are in my debt. I should give her hand to one of the ironborn lords, as my goodbrother suggested."

"Don't make me be a salt wife!" Dorna shrieked. "We're sorry we're sorry we're sorry-"

"Maester Creylen, prepare a raven," Tywin said. "Address it to Lord Greyjoy, asking him which of his lords needs a bride."

"My lord Tywin, I beg you!" Harys screamed. "We will pay! Give us time!"

"We have given you all the time in the world-"

"Tywin." I stepped to the side of the throne.

"Don't think because I owed you that you can defy me like Father," Tywin said. His clenched fist shook on the armrest of the throne.

"Look at him, he's done. You made your point," I whispered to him. "Is this the way you want to start your reign? Selling Dorna like your dad sold out Genna? Come on, think about what we talked about last night."

Tywin glanced at a bawling Dorna Swyft in her father's arms.

Holy shit, was that shame I saw there, for a second? I didn't think that was possible.

"Go. Do not let us detain you," Tywin said. "Your daughter will remain as our honored guest, as handmaiden to my mother."

"My lord, you are wise," Harys babbled. "The West is safe in your hands-"

"Hey, ser, maybe you better put down the pick and shovel," I muttered out of the side of my mouth. "Because there ain't no gold, and the hole's just getting deeper."

The chipmunk that walked like a man hit Mach 7 running out of the Gallery.

"The vaults of the Rock are closed," Tywin said. No soup for you. "Our wealth will be spent for the good of the realm. My goodbrother has talked to me of what we need to do. The great roads paved, the Tumblestone made into a canal to let boats pass to the Red Fork, and the Westerguard shall be raised."

"Westerguard?" I asked.

"The gen-dar-mer-ie," Tywin said, sounding out the unfamiliar word. "An order of knights and men at arms sworn to the Lord-Paramount to keep the king's peace, on the roads and every corner of the West."

Oh. That.

"My lord, let us be the first to offer our sworn swords to such a service," Ser Reynard said, taking a knee before the Lion's Throne. "We admit we listened too closely to our sister, who was consumed with pride."

"So did you look up the schedule for the next bus to toss her under?" I said under my breath.

"No. The Westerguard shall be raised among free knights and smallfolk who swear oaths to us," Tywin said. "Casterly Rock will pay the cost for their hire and equipment. Later, scutage will be paid by all lords of the West for the Westerguard's needs."

Twyin's lips curled up ever so slightly.

"One of their first duties will be to escort the bailiffs who will examine my lords' holdings to pay the taxes. My goodbrother is a clever man, is he not?"

Note to self-do not, ever again, drink Dornish red while Tywin is paying attention.

"You are all dismissed, except the good men of Lannisport." Tywin rose. "We wlll speak in private of my goodbrother's idea of a Golden Bank."

I managed a friendly wave at the dumbfounded Westerlands Lords who hadn't quite processed the fact that I had suggested their tax bills were now at least as big as the debts they still owed the Rock. The collective second shoe dropped as I hurried out, Genna in tow, through a side door. Their reaction sounded less like those dedicating their fortunes to the betterment of the realm. It was more like an African poacher waking up bent over a log as a troupe of silverback gorillas lined up behind him for payback. Even Tywin's supporters like Marbrand were shocked as they realized they were equally on the hook to show support for their supposed puppet lordling's decision. They couldn't even counsel against it. The Westerguard was exactly the kind of law-and-order statement needed to say the sheriff was in town.

Turns out that strongwine is brandy by another name. I discovered that after ordering the nearest servant to bring me the strongest drink they had around. I slumped down in the room Emmon and Genna had been granted for their wedding night. I drained the first goblet in one go and was onto the second as I contemplated the implications. Tywin had decided to go full Sun King on the asses of his vassals. L'etat, c'est le lion. Or was it "la"? I never did get the genders of French nouns right. Of all the Lords-Paramount, the Lannisters were the most likely to pull off an absolute monarchy in their province. The Westerlands was small and relatively easily controlled. The Lannisters could outspend any lord if they decided to break open the coffers and risk sparking inflation. Unlike the Tyrells, the main trade center in the Westerlands was under the thumb of a loyal cadet branch within easy flinging-of-boiling-oil distance of the Lannister's unassailable fortress. Once I introduced the idea of cannons and rifles-which I would, because boy howdy did we need every edge against the Others-the balance of power would shift to lords with the wealth and access to industry that gunpowder weapons granted.

The Reynes and their ilk were screwed. The Reyne defiance had been one big con, at its heart. The Reyne's mines were played out. They must have looked at the Westerlings and Tarbecks, and realized it was only a matter of time until they went the same way. So Ellyn had cooked up a classic murphy game, where she was the lure while her brothers played the standover men intimidating Tytos. That had worked until some idiot had shot his mouth off-hey!-and the guy in the bedroom changed to John Gotti in a doublet. All it had taken was Tywin deciding to use the inherent strategic economic and military strengths of the Rock to call the Reyne's bluff. I wondered how many of their co-conspirators would realize that the Red Lions had lead them down a primrose path...and right off a cliff.

Not before I ended up dogmeat.

Thanks, Tywin, for giving the credit.

Last edited: Jan 2, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Jan 9, 2016

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#287

Breakfast was a little...tense.

My hangovers are never the stereotypical pounding-headache-and-vomitus often seen in fiction. It might be because I learned long ago to hydrate between drinking binges. Given high-medieval water quality, this might not be the best survival strategy. There were reasons why watered wine and ale were seen as healthier in the old days. But at least I was feeling only somewhat fragile when the summons came early in the morning to have the Westerosi equivalent of brunch with Lady Jeyne and a small circle of intimate friends. Said circle being Jason Lannister, her father Lord Denys Marbrand, and the sour vine whose fruit my physical body came from. Walder Frey's presence was not helping my digestion much.

In other words, I'd been politely summoned before the regency council which has just soft-couped the legitimate authority of the Lord-Paramount of the West.

I was in so far over my head I'd need to Hubble to see daylight.

I nibbled a bagel spread with a berry preserve as Lynora readied my coffee. Germ theory and the Bessemer process were on the list of my half-assed campaign to uplift Westerosi society. But first came the essentials: recreating the Montreal bagel and decent java. Priorities, okay? Megga had been game enough to help me in my quest to bake a decent bagel based on vague memories from reading a wikipedia article. The taste after a week of playing with various recipes was slightly off. Maybe I should cut out the salt or something. It was close enough that I could pretend I was eating a product of Fairmount's poppy-seed finest-though I was more of a sesame seed guy-that it brought a tinge of homesickness. Lynora carefully lifted a kettle off the coals of a brazier, letting it cool for a moment, before pouring the water into a copper pour-over cafetiere worked up by a smith in Megga's neighborhood. Halving the dose and buying decent wakebean from the private stash of a swan ship's captain made for a far smoother cuppa.

Jason's pleasant smile was more than a little strained at Lynora's new position as my cupbearer. Was that the term? I had a feeling he was a lot more comfortable having Megga and his bastard daughter in quiet obscurity in town rather than at the Rock; I'd hired on Megga as a cook and general household manageress along with taking on Lynora. Least I could do, right? I was conflicted about Jason. I liked him personally, but what he had done to Meg... Talk about moral hypocrisy. It was easy to call Walder a human slug. Confronting Ser Jason on what he had done to a helpless servant girl when I owed my life to his protection was harder. Lady Jeyne and her brother politely ignored the pedigree of Lynora's parentage, opting for the "servants are invisible" attitude. Walder stared at me as if I was a complete stranger wearing his son's face. He wasn't a stupid man, was Lord Smeghead.

"My lord father's men have taken Tarbeck Hall without resistance," Lady Jeyne said, setting aside a cup of watered wine. "The steward there had little love for his lord's wife, though distressed greatly by Lord Tarbeck's reversal of fortune. He and others have chosen to join them at the Wall."

"My men found many trinkets pilfered from the Rock in her apartments," Lord Denys said. "How fitting it is that my niece shall find her home already fitted with things which remind her of home."

"You're still making Ellyn march naked to Castamere?" I asked. "She'll die of cold long before then. Not that she hasn't earned a smackdown, but I'm not sure I like having her die because of what I blurted out."

"Fear not, she was only stripped when passing through a village or a holdfast," Ser Jason replied. He laughed cruelly. "Her progress to Castamere was halted two day's march north. Our guards found her raped half-a-hundred times in the stables she was chained in. She begged the keep's septon for a silent sister's veil."

I'm all for schadenfreude. But the amused laughter around the table made my stomach flip-flop.

"I am afraid it will be some time before you may reside there," Lady Jeyne said. "My son has decreed you sit in council with us as advisor."

"You have so many ideas, which he is taken with," Ser Jason added. "The Westerguard, the bank, the canal upon the Tumblestone-truly, he had no idea a prodigy was marrying Genna."

"Heh. That wasn't Emmon," Walder said. "I knew my son. He didn't have a spine nor the brains you have, boy."

"I'm forty-three, Frey. Or I was before I ended up here." I savoured my coffee. "Given how you treated him, he would have been glad to have been put out of his misery."

The sound of Ser Jason's dagger sliding out of its sheathe was very loud in the otherwise silent room.

"Lynora? Leave us," I told the wide-eyed girl. She scampered out. "Pointless to pretend I'm actually Emmon. I bet Walder's already talked to you about tales of wargs and human possession. Or that I might be a Faceless Man."

"What are you?" Lady Jeyne whispered. "What has my husband married my daughter to?"

"I'm a who, not a what. Call me Sam, or Emmon if you have to," I replied. "I'm what in my world was called a dybbuk-a dead soul stuck in a living person's body. Dybbuks are supposed to be malicious. But I swear that I mean no harm. This wasn't my idea."

"Gods be damned, no wonder you went into a rage on your wedding night," Ser Jason said. He hadn't put away his dagger. "I cannot strike you, for you are under guest right. But if you threaten Genna in any way-"

"I would never hurt her," I said. "No more than being forcibly married to a boy twice her age has. All I want to do is pick up the pieces and move on."

"Heh. You've done more than that, boy," Walder said. "You're a foul-mouthed little shit, but at least you're smarter than Emmon. Not that that was hard. Are those ideas of yours you've been filling Tywin's head from wherever you came from? The lands beyond the Sunset Sea?"

"Farther than that." I smirked at Walder. "Did Tywin talk to you about the other canal I proposed? The one between Seagard and the Twins? With locks on the Green Fork and at Ironman's Bay, you could have ships as big as the ironborn's longships and coastal sloops transit along a protected inland waterway between the east and west coasts of the Seven Kingdoms."

I had been waiting to drop that bomb on Walder for days. The reaction was so worth it.

"Good-sister, if we put a lodestone on our friend of Frey's head," Ser Jason drawled, "we could balance him on his cock and use him as a compass."

"Lannisport could grow as great as Oldtown," Lady Jeyne said, eyes wide at the implications.

"I have no idea why I was sent here," I lied, glancing at Esther half-hidden in a corner, "but my knowledge from my native lands could prove useful to everyone. Give me a chance. If I become dangerous, all you have to do is step aside for half the Westerlands nobles to finish me off."

"Oh, fear not, we have found a solution to that," Ser Jason said. "We have found you a most able sworn shield. One greatly motivate to keep you safe."

"Who?"

Ser Jason told me.

My reply that he was out of his fucking mind was cut short when Walder whimpered like a bitch in heat.

"I believe we must give our lord of Frey some privacy," Lady Jeyne said, edging away from him.

"Here, dad." I dumped out the grounds in the cheesecloth coffee filter. "Already warm. Just find some lard and the nearest garderobe, and you're good to go."

Seven hells, I was rich.

I stared in shock at the records that Maester Belden had brought to me from the Rock's archives. The maester listed in the appendixes had been one Creylen; that one must have been appointed long after Belden had died. Belden was enthusiastic as all get-out about my "innovations", pestering me about how I might make the canals water-tight. I'd spun some BS about the "false stone" I'd heard about that made up the water channel of Braavos' aqueduct; turned out that cement was a thing, at least in the more sophisticated Essosi city. They apparently had a kind of hydraulic cement whose formula was a closely-held secret by the mason's guild. A vague mention of use of volcanic soil from a chance memory of reading Wiki's article on Roman cement had sent him to his chambers to send for pumice from Dragonstone.

I had a fan. Right up until I became a threat to the grey rats who were his bosses.

Technically, Genna was Lady of Tarbeck Hall. I was only Lord as her consort. But given that I had a) a penis and b) she wasn't a woman grown, I was lord of the manor in every way possible. I basically owned the equivalent of a medium-sized duchy. Much of it was hills. But Lord Tarbeck had bought back many of the lands his family had lost in their downward slide. Much of it was from the Reynes, who had ended up double-dipping into the Rock's treasury by making Walderan buy back what they had acquired over the centuries at the Tarbecks' expense. That poor sap. What wasn't forest and hills were fertile valleys with dozens of villages and holdfasts. One hundred and fifty thousand souls were subject to the justice-including pit and gallows-that I had by the laws of men and gods.

Yeesh. My criticism of Tytos seemed hollow, given that he had at least some training for such a responsibility.

The guard at the door to my chambers announced that my sworn shield had arrived.

Ser Reynard Reyne stood at attention in mail with blade sheathed at one hip. The foxy features that hinted at the fact he was the cunning one of the Reyne brothers was impassive as the walls of Storms End.

"I'm honestly sorry about what happened to your sister," I said. "I hope they catch whoever did it. I'll tell Tywin he has to punish them if he's to maintain the image that law and order prevail in the West."

Ser Reynard stayed silent.

"Okay. You don't have to like me. I'd hate me too, if I was ordered to guard the guy who screwed up your family's plans." I cocked my head. "If there actually was one. Aside from 'milk Tytos for as long as possible, and ignore the fact he'll die eventually'."

Ser Reynard winced.

"Saw that coming, huh? Couldn't convince sis and bro that it might be a good idea to rein back a little?"

He ruefully nodded.

"So. We're stuck together," I continued. "Jason's brainwave basically makes you a working hostage. If I get killed by assassins, poison, or pretty much anything? Your family ends up with the blame. Tywin will probably end up damming up the stream feeding Castamere, and sip wine as he listens to your family and all their servants claw their fingers to the bone against the gates of your impregnable but not waterproof underground fortress. As they drown. Slowly and horribly."

Ser Reynard paled.

"Oh yes. And you're going to be in close quarters with a very pissed off boy who hates your house's guts. Want some rum?"

"Oh gods, yes!"

I poured him a mug.

Look, I'm not completely heartless...

Last edited: Feb 27, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Jan 16, 2016

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#312

"Drowning us in our own mines." Reynard saluted with a half-empty mug of rum. "Others eat my eyes, the lad has a vicious streak so early. He truly said he would do that?"

"Let's just say it's something he might think up," I replied. "You Reynes should find a tattoo artist. Ink a dotted line around your necks so the headsman has a clear target."

"Our heads upon pikes." Reynard smirked. "At least I shall look pretty upon the walls for the crows and the ladies."

"I'd like to avoid a sudden outbreak of mass decapitations," I said, wincing internally at the thought I'd have to watch public executions. "Is your brother going to wash the starch out and bend the knee? Because if he keeps up the defiance, the West is heading right for the chamber pot."

"The golden lions have Rohanne and Cerelle," Reynard said. "That traitorous shit of a castellan of Walderan's has left Tion in the hands of Marbrand's men. My brother would never risk the lives of our sister's children."

Rohanne and Cerellle would have been sent to the silent sisters with-possbily-who-are-we-kidding-it's-Tywin their tongues ripped out. Tion would have been killed along with his mother in the sack of their hall. Either Rohanne or Cerelle's son had likely been tossed down a well by Amory Lorch.

Trust me, Reynard, your brother would have been risking them had he gone down that road.

"So we lions red and argent will snarl and prowl our lairs for the nonce." Reynard's hazel eyes studied me as he sipped his rum. "Fear not, stoatling. I am a knight. I shall honour the vows I made to my liege lord. I am ever your leal protector."

"I bet shit hasn't been spread that thick since the Rock's sewers overflowed," I said.

"No, I mean it. You are a man going places." Reynard smirked. "Sadly not to the seven hells with my blade in your guts. But you have the ear of our dear Lord Tywin, and a man in your retinue may hope to advance somewhat in spite of disadvantage."

"Glad to know you're being professional-"

"Just know that I think that if your father is smegma," Reynard continued, "then you are the pus which drips from a pox-riddled cock. The moment the Lannisters fall is the day I come for you. Best trace that dotted line about your own throat."

Oh yeah, we two were going to get along like gangbusters.

My bodyguard sat back nursing his mug. He didn't seem as drunk as I'd expected him to be. Either he could handle his liquor better than I thought, or Megga had watered down to the equivalent of grog. Captain Morgan's it was not. Blacktar was raw, harsh stuff that was one step up from the rum equivalent of white dog. That suggested that sugar cane or some analogue existed either in the Summer Islands or the rumoured territories in Sothoryros they had discovered. I was a little hazy on whether sugar itself was known in the Seven Kingdoms. Grim Martin's food porn had sent me into MEGO mode, and Emmon's fading memories didn't feature the stuff. It must be as rare as the more expensive spices.

Dammit. These tangents would be so much easier if I could establish a telepathic link with Google.

I returned to checking out the vast tracts of land I now owned. Oh boy. I hefted a thick sheaf of documents in Maester Beldeo's spidery handwriting. Much of Tarbeck's acquisitions had been at the expense of petty lords and landed knights who had been muscled off their lands. The lucky ones had been paid a nominal amount of coin. The others had been rousted by Tarbeck's forces back by the threat of the Reynes helping their good-brother. A few had even been taken out by duels over suspiciously-timed insults to Ellyn Tarbeck's honour. Now all the survivors were screaming for their lands back; there were still cronies of Tarbeck who were squatting in their stolen holdfasts. I doubted that they'd be willing to stand quietly as their stuff was dumped out onto the sidewalk.

Lynora tiptoed in bearing a message for me. She stared at me wide-eyed. Ooops. I should have sent her out before I revealed my "true" age to my new family. I hope her lips weren't loose enough to sink the still-fragile ship I was in with Genna. It seems I was summoned by Tywin for another round of advice. Reynard sighed more than a little dramatically when I told him we had to get out move on. Lynora simpered a little when he stood up. I had to admit, he might be a cunning bastard bent on killing me if he could get away with it. But damn, he was a walking bishounen in red-and-silver coilours.

At least the spot between the shoulder-blades was spared an itching sensation. Reynard chose to take point instead of rear-end Charlie. We wove our way through the Rock's serpentine tunnels as we headed to the solar where I had talked to Lord Tytos. Interesting. Either Tywin or his advisors were ensuring that everyone knew he was in charge. Of Tytos, I had no idea. They wouldn't kill him, would they? My musings were interrupted when the door to the solar slammed open. Lord Farman stormed out swearing like a sailor just finding himself naked and penniless after choosing the wrong hooker.

Reynard assumed guard at the door as I went in. Tywin sat at his father's table. Beneath his rump were several pillows so he wasn't chinning the desktop. Two redcloaks stood impassively in the corners. Tywin's usual cool exterior was marred by something that might be embarasment if you squinted hard. I settled onto a comfortable chair until he came out of his funk. My hand automatically went for the bottle of Arbor gold that had been set out for guests. At this rate I'd in Robert's league. I hadn't been an alcoholic in my old life. But old binging habits and plentiful free wine and beer were a bad mix.

"We made a mistake allowing your father to collect his debts from Lord Farman," Tywin said. "Lord Farman took our gold to pay for a bigger fleet to defend himself from Quellon's reavers."

"I thought Quellon was a reformer," I said.

"The Lord of Pyke is an ironborn," Tywin said. "He's no better than any other squid."

Whoops. Maybe Quellon's reformist attempts had come later. Or weren't widely known outside the Iron Islands yet.

"He might not be able to hold his people back," I said. "He still has to act like he's the pirate king when there's prime looting opportunities right next door."

"I will build a fleet of dromonds and carracks to free all the women taken from our lands," Tywin replied. "Then I will kill one out of ten ironborn and take the rest to our mines."

"Tywin, pace yourself a little," I said. "Sending what ships you have out on maneuvers instead of lying around in port should help. The semaphore system we talked about will be another deterrent. Sink a few longships, show you're not a victim."

"And now you're an admiral as well," Tywin said.

"Eh, just common-sense." That and what I'd read about the anti-piracy efforts against the Somali version of the Old Wayers. "If you want to win Farman back, sponsor Fair Isle's fleet with war galley class ships, maybe not as big as the Lannister fleet. Or else ask him to be your lord-admiral."

"Can I still decimate the squids?" Tywin asked plaintively.

"Uh, maybe hit Lordsport as a retaliatory strike." I paused, thinking of Victarion's stunt in canon. "Maybe with fire-ships, rigged to crash into the fleet at anchor."

"Fried squid is delicious." Tywin smile-hinted.

I drew a deep breath.

"Tywin, I'm worried about the optics-" I sighed at Tywin's puzzlement. "I mean, how it looks for Ellyn Tarbeck to have been gang-raped under the protection of your guards. It doesn't say law and order.'

"She is a whore," Tywin said flatly. "She was paying the debt she owed."

"Kid, she was tried and convicted," I said. "Sexually shaming her is wrong."

"Oh, you don't know. She is a whore by her own choice. She was paying a debt owed to a Pentoshi captain who bought some small amounts she owed merchants in Lannisport."

"What?"

"He asked that her daughters be indentured to him." Tywin rolled his eyes. "'There are no slaves in Pentos, and indeturements are legal.' I'm not a fool, Emmon. They'd be bed-not-slaves or whores the moment they arrived. I thought of doing it. Then I thought you would be disappointed my selling Rohanne and Cerelle."

Gold-flecked green eyes looked at me without a hint of regret.

"So I sent a raven ahead telling Lady Tarbeck of angels, and that it is a mother's duty to save her children. I set her fee at a groat for a peasant, a stag for a highborn, and any of Lannister blood at a dragon. Because we are worth more."

Nausea gripped me.

"After all, I learned so much from you, goodbrother," Tywin said.

Last edited: Feb 7, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#354

If this had been a wish-fulfillment fantasy, I would have slapped Tywin across the face and screamed at him for what he had done.

Only it wasn't a fantasy. I was here right across the table from a ten-year-old version of a man who had had thousands massacred over a point of pride. He could have me thrown into one of the Rock's infamous oubliettes; that is, if I lived long enough to survive the attentions of the red cloaks standing guard right behind him. More than that, I was frozen by being so close to actual evil. It was the same crawling horror I had had in the scene in Downfall when Magda Goebbels had forced her sleeping children to bite down on cyanide capsules.

"Tywin, did you ask the regents about this?" I asked.

"I consulted Maester Belden about what other rulers might have done," Tywin replied. "He told me the closest one he could remember was when King Maegor had sentenced a woman to do the same. She had cheated many suitors by making them buy her expensive gifts without intending to honor a betrothal."

"The fact that that bit of lawyering was done by a guy named 'the Cruel'," I said, "should have been a hint the maester was telling you to find another way of dealing with it."

"I don't understand. I was doing as I thought as you'd approve." Tywin actually looked hurt. "Rohanne and Cerelle shouldn't pay for their mother's crimes. The maester suggested I indenture them in service to us to pay the debt. But you would have found that unfair."

"You couldn't have sentenced Ellyn to indenturement herself?" I asked. "Did you have to shame her that way?"

"Father would have ruined it." Tywin pouted. "He would have weakened like he always does. He would have forgiven her the debts, and she would have escaped punishment. Now she has paid for her fraud with coin to spare. There is enough left over to dower her daughters."

Oh god.

This was Tywin when he was being merciful.

Westeros sucked.

In any sane western society on Earth, Tywin's decision would have gotten him dog-piled by a wave of condemnation. Only Westeros was a medieval shithole whose sexual politics were only slightly better than the Taliban's. Lord Roger Reyne's manliness was to be admired. Ellyn? The once-glamorous Red Lioness was now revealed as the uppity bitch who got what was coming to her, half-a-hundred times. Any hint of criticism for their new lord-paramount's decision was drowned out at the glee of the lords and ladies of the West seeing Ellyn's downfall. Or, at least be seen to be gleeful lest they be seen to be treasonous to the hard-assed bastard sitting in the Lord-Paramount's chair. Who just might decide to extend Ellyn's payment plan to others. There were more than a few jokes among the Rock's guards that Tywin was planning to send others down to the docks in velvets and jewels to pick up sailors on the docks.

It would have been more merciful for Lord Reyne to have drowned while dying by inches from crossbow wounds. Tywin's hard-boy-making-hard-decisions act had essentially tattooed him across the face with a cock-and-balls with an L on his forehead. And that L wasn't for his position in the peerage. The last I'd seen of him was riding out on a swaybacked donkey-the only mount left among those he'd brought to the wedding-waving his fist at the Lion's Mouth as he was evicted at the point of Lannister pikes. He had spent hours roaring in rage, screaming to no avail for anyone to grant him a sword to avenge his sister. No-one had tossed him a pot-metal dagger.

Ser Reynard and I stood on a parapet on the seaward side of the Rock. I'd had a need for some fresh air. The younger brother of Lord Reyne had gone very quiet after what really happened to his sister had filtered through the Rock at the speed of rumour; I hadn't had the nerve to reveal Tywin's judgement after leaving the solar. Buck-buck-buckaw. I could only assume that he was silently plotting my hideous death. Or else realizing that he was the next Reyne in line for the lordship if his brother was true to his vow never to serve under "that little brat of a cub". Together we watched the galley bearing Lord Tarbeck, Ellyn, his daughters, and their husbands to Seagard and then the North. Tywin had ordered that no Tarbeck remain on his lands. Some were headed with Pappa Tarbeck to the Wall. Others were given the option-at my advice, dammit-to ask for vacant fiefs in the Gifts. Ellyn was headed for Mandely lands to take up the veil of the silent sisters at the Sept of the Snows.

Beside me, Genna stuck her tongue out at the galley. I couldn't help snorting at the childish display of brattiness. Just to one side were the only two of the Tarbeck clan to be allowed to stay in the West. Really, Rohanne and Cerelle were hostages to ensure their dad and his family didn't try anything funny on their way to Not Siberia. The two mournful girls were cute strawberry blondes who were going to grow up to be beauties like their mom. Not that that would do them much good. Matriomonially, they were pure poison to anyone of their rank. Their dowries came from their own mother being whored out. I'd asked Tywin to take them in as wards in my household.

Fuck. Between Lynora, Genna, and now the Tarbeck girls I was accumulating an underage harem. Any minute I expected Chris Hansen to appear behind me.

"Tywin says he thinks you don't like him now," Genna said. "I said he's being silly."

"It isn't that I don't like him," I said carefully. "I just think he could have done things differently."

"You're being like father." Genna tossed her golden curls. "Ellyn was a whore. I heard mamma say that once to father. 'Why does this whore have so much power over you?'"

Oh, shitake. If she'd been a little fly on the wall, then Tywin must have heard it too. This explained so much.

"Genn, stop it." I jerked my head at Cerelle and Rohanne. Tears were streaming down their cheeks. "They're right there. You're digging in the knife for no reason. That's not noble."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Genna said, cheeks flushing. "Don't worry, my big brother doesn't think you're whores like your mother. He told me that he understands about being shamed by a parent. He'll find you good husbands! Until then, you can be my handmaids!"

Ser Reynard rolled his eyes to the heavens.

"Don't be to smart, ser!" Genna continued, wagging her finger at him. "My brother knows about you. He said if he thought you'd used your charming tongue, then he'd have it ripped out and nailed to the castle gates!"

"Lovely wife of yours," Reynard muttered to me. "I'm sure you'll have years of bliss ahead of you."

"Hey, foxy man? She's not kidding."

"Oh." Ser Reynard swallowed. "Right. I should emulate my sister."

"They were right, you're the smart one." I patted Genna on a shoulder. "Come on in, my lady wife. It's getting a wee bit nippy out here."

"Brrrr. I want to snuggle under the covers already." Genna beamed at me. "My brother's becoming the greatest lord in the West. You can already hear them cheering him."

Yeah, Genna. I could hear them cheering.

Or was that the screaming of his victims?

Last edited: Jan 30, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#390

When I was growing up, my sister had nigh-weekly sleepovers with her friends. Going into her room when those were going on was rather like going into a tough roadhouse bar as the stranger in town. Slightly more giggling than the denizens of such establishments, but there was a decided sense that you had about ten seconds before someone opened up your skull with a beer bottle. Or in the case of my sister's friends, a nail file. I had the same distinct feeling of being in the wrong place as we bedded down in my rooms.

Asking whether the Tarbeck girls could sleep elsewhere had gotten a frosty reply back from the Lady of Casterly Rock that, if I had them as my wards, then I was responsible for their accomodations. Yeesh. Clearly Jeyne subscribed to the Catelyn Tully school of punishing the children for the sins of their parents. I wasn't so completely blind to social mores in Westeros to suggest that Cerelle and Rohanne bed down with Megga and Lynora in the servant's cell behind the wooden screen on the back wall. So the two girls were in a trundle bed at the foot of the four poster in simple shifts; all the clothing they had was practically what was on their backs after her family's possession had been sold. Talk about the most depressing slumber party ever.

Screw this. I was through with living off the avails of my in-laws. I hadn't had a problem with being a renter for most of my life. But the claustrophobia of living in the Rock and being under the control of the Lannisters was getting on my nerves. It turned out the solution had been provided by the Tarbecks. Ellyn had managed to wheedle a plot for a manse on the Lion's Flank, the most exclusive quarter in Lannisport. It was where the ground rose up until it came to the Rock itself. The lower reaches were inhabited by the most prominent merchants and other worthies. The higher you went, the more it was an unwritten rule that there had to be some Lannister connection through blood or marriage. This was where the Lannetts, Lannleys, and the Lannisters of Lannisport lived. Naturally, Miss Didn't Know When to Quit had gulled Tytos into granting her spot right in the middle of the upper crust. It had apparently just been completed right before the Beggars' Wedding. And now it was Genna's, and now mine. Although she hadn't gotten around to furnishing it.

Much of what she'd hauled down from Tarbeck Hall-and then sold in the sale of the century-had been meant for the manse.

You could build entire skyscrapers out of the irony there.

Until then, I was stuck with living with Rohanne and Cerelle in my rooms unless I decided to ship them off to Megga's house. I didn't quite trust them outside of my protection. There had been an ugly scene an hour before bedtime when a drunken man-at-arms had come up to ask them if they were as good as their mother had been. Ser Reynard's vigorous response in protecting my new wards from harm had given the asshole a quick and dirty sex change. So I was now odd man out, literally, as we tried to make do. I ignored Cerelle's muffled blubbering while Genna settled in by my side. She had my sketches laid out for bedtime reading.

"Are you going to make all these, Emm?" Genna asked, hugging her ragged lion plushie.

"No, I'm a noble. I supervise." I tilted my head back, sniffing. "It's up to the craftmen I hire to do the details. Like figure out how to actually get all this to work. I'm not an engineer."

"I wish I could help with this," Genna said. "But this is maester work. Girls can't be maesters."

"Genn if you want to learn engineering, go for it," I said. "What, do you you think I'll stop you? You have my leave to be anything you want."

"I've never heard of a lady who was an engineer," Genna said uncertainly.

"There's a story I heard about-" I paused. Perfect. "One of my ancestors, when the Twins were being built. He had gotten hurt during the construction, and the project was going to end. But his wife insisted the maester teach her the skills to help complete the bridge. So now the Twins stand as a monument to their marriage and love."

I always did like the story of Emily Warren Roebling.

"You really, truly mean it?" Genna said. "You think I could help with your work?"

"Well, someone in this family has to," I said. "I'm the idea man. I leave the petty details to you, my lady wife."

"Schmuck." Genna gathered up my papers and neatly set them aside. "Emm, I want a story tonight. Father used to tell me one every night."

Uh.

Damn. Emmon's faded memories didn't provide me with much of the local folklore and legends. What should I tell her? Something from Grimm or Andersen?

Esther leapt onto the bed, nuzzling her head beneath my palm.

And then I discovered the gift she had granted me. I couldn't remember the exact details of an open hearth furnace, or a steam engine's schematics, or all the other technical details I had tried to dredged up. But in that second I was transported into my eleven year old self in the school library, picking up that interesting softcover with the picture of the dragon...

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit...

It was like sleeping in a basket of puppies.

"There and Back Again" clearly had earned the Westerosi Girl Seal of Approval for bedtime entertainment. I'd ended it with Bilbo rushing out of Bag End seeking Thorin's company. I'm not sure they understood all the references-I'd had to explain what "fireworks" were like-but the tale of the little hobbit swept away to adventure had resonated. Heh. Maybe I should go with "A long long time ago, in a galaxy far away" next time. The downside was that Cerelle and Rohanne had fallen asleep atop me along with my child bride. It was getting a touch stuffy.

My half-doze became instant wakefulness when the door latch clicked. Flicking aside the canopy, I peered out as a hand holding a taper emerged through the doorway. Tytos Lannister's drawn features were harshly illuminated by the flickering flame. I saw Ser Reynard hanging back silently at his post in the hallway as Genna's father tiptoed across the Myrish carpet. I eased out from the pile of maidenhood as he came to the bedside. He gently stroked Genna's cheek.

"I listened to your tale earlier, goodson," Tytos said. "I've never heard of a hobbit or the dwarves you described. Yet it's as fine a story as any of the Dragonknight or Lann the Clever, in its way."

Huh. They must have kept him out of the loop on my confession.

"I am glad she has someone to spin tales." Tytos's voice wavered. "I've given up any right. Gods be damned, I have failed my children."

"I think she'd like to have her daddy tell her stories sometime," I said. "She's still your little girl."

"You did not deny my failure." Tytos sagged. The beginnings of wattles beneath his chin fluttered. "What am I to do? My bannermen will never trust me. My son denies any mercy I beg of him. My wife has vowed she would take the veil like Ellyn-oh, poor woman-"

"For fuck's sake, man up," I snapped. "I hate what happened to her. But Ellyn Reyne had all the self-preservation of a drunken squirrel in a stampede. She would have gotten her family killed. Enabling her didn't do her any favours."

"I never wanted this," Tytos said. "My father Gerold well-knew that I was unsuited for rule. I tried, I did. Now, I am but a puppet in a mummer's show. What is there after this?"

"I have no idea, my lord," I said. "Maybe you could be an inkeeper or something."

"An innkeep." Tytos chuckled. "That does sound more my nature."

"Not a winesink," I said, yawning. "A classy place. Fine food, fine liquor, nightly acts on stage by the finest bards in the Westerlands. You could call it the Golden Arches."

"Perhaps I shall take your advice, goodson."

"Do that." I headed for the trundle bed. "Pardon, I need some sleep to face Tywin tomorrow."

"Of course, Emmon."

I drew the covers over me as Tytos Lannister walked out, muttering "innkeep" over and over.

My hand to whatever gods existsed, I never expected him to take me seriously.

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#423

"My lords of the West, you have proven yourselves utter cunts," Tytos Lannister pronounced, sitting upon the Lion Throne. "Which is most appropriate, for in my groveling for your false smiles I have made you my whores."

Jeyne Lannister clapped her hands over her mouth.

Tytos quaffed a mug of rum, then had a page fill it again.

"Lovely stuff. Oh, where was I?" Tytos stroked his unkempt hair. "Oh, not all of you were cunts. Marbrand, Crakehall, all those who gave me good counsel I never heeded. 'Tis my foolishness that encouraged the others to sell themselves for my coin. That is why the raven just sent to Kings Landing with my seal and signature announces my abdication of the titles and responsibilities of Lord-Paramount, Warden, Shield, etcetera."

Tytos smiled at his eldest son.

"You have all acted like squabbling children. Then let you be ruled by one." Tytos sighed. "The gods have mercy on you, for my son will have none. My last act with what threadbare authority I have is that I shall take on the duties of Lord-Steward of Inns and Mails."

Ser Jason Lannister clapped his hands over his ears.

"My clever goodson. He advised me to be an innkeep, and so I shall!" Tytos saluted me with his goblet. Rum splashed down his sleeve. "I found a most marvelous idea among his notes: a system of inns and coaches that may provide travelers and messages with safe transport across the Westerlands. So I shall become not merely an innkeep, but a Lord of Innkeeps!"

Tywin Lannister covered his eyes.

"And so, I bid you all farewell." Tytos rose steadily, fingers at the laces of his breeches. "Let this be my show of gratitude for all the 'friendship' you have granted me over the years."

And then the Laughing Lion mooned the rebellious lords of the Westerlands with his plump, hairy ass.

So ended the Beggars' Wedding.

There was an actual, no-kidding harbor at the seaward base of Casterly Rock.

I wasn't talking about a little cave that could admit a small galley. The cavern that housed the Rock's harbor was vast enough that it was said clouds formed in the vaulted ceilings of living rock high above. The entrance was a natural crevice bored by millenia of pounding waves that was large enough to admit a single-masted cog. All around the circumference of the sea cave were docks, warehouses carved into the walls, and even a small shipyard that could service the Rock's small fleet. Most of the vessels tied up at the wharves were longships and fishing vessels meant to provide the Lannister stronghold with bounty from the sea. The Lords of the Rock did not deign to send their stewards down to the Lannisport fishmarkets to haggle for the day's catch.

The biggest ship was the cog Fleetwind. It was a coaster that usually carried goods from Lannisport to the Iron Islands, and then ore from the mines there back to the foundries of the Rock. Lord Walder Frey had hired it to ship his sudden windfall of Other People's Stuff back to the Twins, along with his retinue. The prospect of riding back through the Westerlands in a slow convoy on the roads-through country where much of the nobility now loathed him-had convinced him to pry open his coinpurse for sea transport. Stevedores carried everything from armor to ornately-carved chests into the cog's hold. I damn near thought it would sink right there at the dock.

Daddy-not-so-dearest checked every single item before it went aboard. Trust a Frey to count every copper and double-check the manifest. Emmon's memories had incidents where peasants who thought they could understate the value of a cartload of goods to lower their toll discovered that the Freys had invented water-boarding. The water cure at the Twins involved being given a dunking in special drowning cells at the base of the Water Tower. Charming family I had here in this world. Still, the weasel was going to be a big part of my plans here in this new life. I gritted my teeth as I offered my hand to him.

"Have a safe trip home, Walder," I said.

"I'm sorry to leave. Heh." Lord Frey smirked. "This is the most exciting wedding I've been to, and I was at Whitewalls when the black dragons tried to raise their banners a second time."

"You have to hand it to Tytos," I said. "He saved it up for the big finish."

"The Lord of Innkeeps. Well, not as if he could be any more of a jest," Walder said. "You're just full of advice, aren't you, 'son'?"

"For the last fucking time, it was a joke!"

"Oh, I like your advice." Avarice lit up in his eyes like dragonflame. "We Freys will be as rich as the Lannisters, with all the tolls we can reap from the canal."

"You won't be charging a groat, Walder," I said. "You think I'm insane, to have you in control of a critical trade chokepoint? No, the canal's being built and owned by a holding company that'll pay you and the Mallisters rent for the right of way. That and the opportunity to charter a market city-call it 'Freyton'-should be enough of a toll."

"Huh. Never heard of that arrangement," Walder said. "Were you some sort of merchant, before you came here?"

"Just an ordinary guy who liked to read a lot," I said. "And you owe me a big one, Walder, if this project pans out."

"A favor? Mmmm, and what shall it be?"

"You'll find out in time," I said. "You know what the Stark house words are. 'Winter is Coming'."

"You're a mad one, whoever you are behind Emm's eyes." Walder tapped his nose. "But I'll keep my debt in mind. Heh. You're half-near a Lannister now. Best I bare that in mind lest I end up another beggar at the wedding."

As long as it wasn't a Red Wedding.

Lord Frey boarded the gangplank after the last bit of filthy lucre was accounted for. Sailors cast off lines. A longboat took Fleetwind in tow through the sea-gate, past bastions on either side bristling with scorpions and spitfires. Once free of the cavern, the cog's single sail was raised and the rudder bent to the north. A Braavosi galley hired on as escort against any opportunistic ironborn reavers took up station alongside the cog as they both headed for Seagard. I silently wished him all the luck the Storm God could grant him.

Walder Frey was a prick. In canon, he'd have been a traitorous murderer.

But the Others were coming. And his domains were right smack where the Walkers would come if the Wall and the Starks failed, and the Neck froze over. Every warm body that the jerk could spring from his breeches was needed. If I needed to build a second wall out of Freys, then that's what I had to do.

Time to go to work.

Last edited: Jan 30, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#452

The winter waves boomed against the islet upon which stood the Sea Tower of Pyke. The figure sprawled in the chair within his solar drank deep of a cup of Dornish red that one of his captains had gifted him; it had come from the hold of a Myrish pirate's galleas that had been seized while the man had been reaving in the Stepstones. The same captain had stopped at Lannisport not a fortnight ago when the Beggar's Wedding had been held at Casterly Rock. The weathered features of the man were sober despite the wine warming his belly. He thanked the Drowned God that the captain and his crew had been illiterate as most ironborn were. For it would not have done to have him read the missive he had brought sealed with the lion rampant sigil of the Lannisters.

My lord of Pyke,

This is the first missive you have from me. Though I know that you have received many a letter by raven from my father. You have been strangely silent on replying to his demands that you enforce the king's peace in ending the reaving of your rebellious subjects. No doubt you are taking your time investigating. I understand the need for discretion.

On a happier note, I wish to place an order for five hundred hauberks of mail, sufficient plates suitable to equip a thousand brigandines, and sufficient swords and pike heads to equip fifteen hundred men. The Westerguard we are raising to end outlawry and piracy in our lands and waters has need of such things to start. More will be ordered as we raise more men to fully ready the Guard. I am sure the smiths of Lordsport will be happy for the custom. As will any shipwrights of the Iron Islands, whose skills will be needed as we double the size of our fleet to a full eighty one-hundred oar dromonds to fulfill our obligations as Warden of the West. Your people may often find the Westerguard fleet passing by your anchorages for watering and supply. I assure you that, in spite of the history between your people and his house, our new High Admiral Lord Farman will act with utter neutrality regarding the ironborn.

We also order the return of the following list of women taken by your reavers, their arrest of their abductors, and both transported to the Rock. The abductors shall be tried as the common thieves and rapists they are. You have a moon's turn to comply. Or else we bar any ships of the Iron Islands from our ports and waters unto fifty leagues from the westernmost tip of the Feastfires Peninsula. All who come closer will be summarily sunk. Any survivors will be put to work in the mines or improving the roads. If another ironborn reaves in the Westerlands, we will send agents to the Free Cities and even unto the Jade Gates with a promise that proof of any ironborn ship sunk will be rewarded with a thousand gold dragons. Those who bring proof of destroying ten of your people's vessels shall be granted the rights and styles of a lord of the West.

We will hire smugglers to put steel in the hands of your thralls.

We will pay the smiths of every city from Seagard to White Harbour to refuse to use iron from your mines.

Every ship you destroy, we will pay the Arsenal of Braavos to build us five replacements and crews to man them.

Greyjoys may not sow, but I swear as a Lannister that I will plant you deep.

Do you believe in angels?

Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport, and quite out of patience.

Quellon Greyjoy drained the last of his cup.

"Well, shit."

Last edited: Feb 7, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Jan 31, 2016

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Feb 6, 2016

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#478

A thump. A creak. The faint sound of wet ink coming free with a squelch.

Welcome to the start of the Renaissance, primitive Westerosi screwheads!

Maester Beldon eased the still-damp Westerguard recruiting poster from the prototype printing press. He held up the paper with the awe of a repressed nerd who has just discovered the existence of Internet porn. It had been astonishingly easy to work up a Gutenberg-style press after describing the basic shape and concept of movable type. All the elements for it were right in place in Lannisport. The mechanism itself was a cider press that was commonly used by farmers to convert the autumn apple crop into delicious, profitable alcohol. Note to self: try distilling it for calvados. The type? The lead/tin/antimony alloy was already known for making cheap, durable signet seals. The technique for mass-producing type came from the punchpressed molds from the western royal mint in Lannisport. I didn't know if the wooden pegboard grid that the type fitted into had been used in my old timeline's history. It worked passably well along with wooden boards tightened into place with screws to hold the type in place on the press' platen. The technique for cheap hemp paper existed, just not used as much when parchment was more prestigious.

Casterly' Rock's maester checked the poster for any errors. The woodcut of the Westerguard's coat of arms had printed clear: stylized waves representing the Sunset Sea surmounted by the outline of the Rock, behind which were mountains and the heraldic symbol of a sunset. Bordering it on left and right respectively were the Father's scales of judgement and the Warrior's sword. Tywin had argued for more obvious Lannister heraldry. I'd argued that the Rock was enough of a hint while suggesting that the Guard served the West as a whole rather than the ambitions of one house. The final design the master of heralds had painted had been impressive enough that Tywin had eased off on the "LIONS EVERYWHERE!" motif.

Maester Beldon replaced one typo before nodding at the two assistants who were assigned the actual drudge-work. They were former acolytes from the Citadel who had not been skilled enough to forge a full chain. The portrayal of Maester Luwin in Winterfell was nothing like how the maester of the Rock served his posting. Beldon didn't have a single room with a rookery above it. The maester's offices of Casterly Rock was a small complex of its own. There were scribe's cells; alchemy workshops for brewing medicines and other chemicals; forges and workshops of various types; a rookery that in whose cotes nested dozens of ravens; and in the ringfort at the summit of the Rock was an observatory with a huge stargazer far-eyes. Along with all that came a staff to match.

"What a marvelous device!" Maester Beldon crowed as loudly as any raven. "We can print thousands of pages a day once we master the technique. Books stamped out as easily as dragons."

"The Citadel won't have a problem with that?" I asked, trying for casual. "I've heard that they can be misers when it comes to knowledge."

"Oh, that is a simplification, my lord," Maester Beldon replied. "There are certain tomes kept in the archives which are restricted for sundry reasons. But we are an order of teachers. Our entire purpose is the spread the light of the Crone's lantern to where the shadows of ignorance lie."

"This should help a bunch keeping the your brethren's libraries up to date," I said. "It might even be a good idea to have the Citadel produce a monthly letter detailing new discoveries. Send master copies to the major centers, then have the maesters there print out copies to distribute in the kingdoms."

"A paper herald. My lord, you are a fount of ingenuity!"

"Hey, I just had a vague idea," I said. "It was your people who made it happen."

"The light-code, purifying iron into steel by air, the steam-piston-I think you possessed by the Smith." Maester Beldon's chain clinked as he waved his arms excitedly. "You must visit Oldtown. The Archmaesters are adamant they must speak with you."

Uh-huh.

I bet.

There was a terrace outside Maester Beldon's main chambers overlooking Lannisport. I bundled up in a warm woolen cloak trimmed with ermine as I stepped outside to clear my sinuses of ink fumes. The westering sun gilded the city below. Lannisport boasted a quarter-million souls running from the Flank right below me to the winesinks and brothels clustered by the seaward wall. The gold-and-marble spires of the Golden Sept dominated the cityscape. Oh yeah, I should leak the existence of the press to the head septon. No sense in having the maesters assume a monopoly on the technology. I should also leak it to a Braavosi merchant. Just wait until movable type met proto-capitalism in a merchant city whose literacy rate was far higher than that of a Westerosi city.

The fleet was on exercise in the harbor. The oars of the Red Widow rose and fell in a rhythm as it moved in formation with the Golden Fang and two other dromonds in the classic wedge of a galley ramming attack. Lord Rodrik Farman had taken the Lannisport fleet by the scruff of the neck the second he'd established the High Admiral's office in the Rock. The Lannisport navy was a classic fleet-in-being: impressive but not sent out much beyond Casterly Bay beyond the occasional show of force. Tytos' reign had kept it at the docks lest Quellon Greyjoy "take offence". House Farman's hatred of ironborn raiders had changed that to "bring it on, motherfucker". Farman had ordered the Lannisport shipyards to start crafting ram-armed longships; the existing longships of Fair Isle's small fleet and the Rock's had been ordered out on aggressive patrols. Squadrons of four-ship dromonds were sent out as heavy hitters up and down the coast. Farman had even taken my hint to have merchant shipping form convoys, though I'd been bluntly told to not tell him his business.

They'd caught a reaving party that Quellon hadn't had time to recall within a week of the new policy. I snapped my gaze away from the city walls where the survivors of a ship who had dared to attack within two day's sail of Lannisport had ended up. The reaver captain's suggestion that Tywin go bugger himself had earned him a...poetic punishment. It wasn't a sharp lesson. Tywin had had the iron spikes on which he had ordered the ironborn impaled upon-shoved up their asses and left to slide down by their own weight-to be blunted before insertion. It had taken days for the last man to die as the gulls and crows feasted upon him. The ironborn who had been at port at the time had managed to reach Mach 3 heading north.

Quellon had one more week of the month to reply. Tywin had begun the timer a week after he had handed the ironborn captain the message. My gaze drifted to the crow's nest of a dromond on station. Flashes from a polished steel mirror spelled out the dits and dahs of the primitive telegraph cipher I'd worked up. It wasn't anything close to Morse, which I had never learned. I had a vague idea that telegraph code was based on letter frequency. But my simplified version was based on strings of five-letter "words" that allowed for 0-9. Pairs of numerals signified the letters of the Common Tongue's alphabet, signals for punctuation and such, and some basic networking protocols. Inefficient, yet perfect was the enemy of the good. The plan was for the code to be learned by signallers on each ship and a network based on the existing coastal watchtowers and spotting stations in the mountains.

Roach on a plate time, you bunch of poor-man's Viking expies.

"My lord?"

"Yes, maester."

"Word from the Banefort arrived," Beldon said, opened parchment in hand. "The Lord Reaper of Pyke is coming."

Last edited: Feb 7, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#507

I found them skating in the Greens.

Casterly Rock's godswood was the creepiest place I had seen outside of pictures of that haunted forest in Japan where all the suicides happen. The Stone Garden was a cavern with an opening in the top that allowed in sun during mid-day. It was enough to let the massive-yet-stunted weirwood within it to survive. The ancient, near-dead tree's branches covered every inch of the ceiling; its white roots formed a network along the floor that burrowed deep into the rock. No other growth could survive there. Instead, stalagmites had been carved into fanicful representations of trees and bushes. Precious metals and jewels had been crafted to form branches and leaves. Petrified wood imported from elsewhere had been placed as well in the mock forest. In the twilight that was the Stone Garden at its brightest, the godswood looked like Medusa's garden with a tangle tree waiting hungrily for its next meal.

Even Lannisters found the Stone Garden just a little too disturbing to linger in for long.

The Lannisters of Lannisport had planted their own godswood when they had moved out to the fishing village that had existed at the base of the Rock. Their old keep had been torn down over the centuries after the Lannisporters had relocated to a palace on the highest reaches of the Flank. But the old godswood still existed as the closest thing to a city park as existed within Westeros. Within stone walls eight feet high was about an acre and a half of woods-really, more of a copse-wound through with graveled paths that made it seem larger than it was. At the center of the Greens was a pond with stone benches. On a small island in the center was the healthy oak that was the heart tree.

My chubby moppet of a wife laughed when Tytos made like Bambi on the frozen waters of the pond. He fell on his ass-thanks, father-in-law, for that image forever branded in my mind-with a pair of skates strapped to his boots. I'm a Canadian. There are some universal constant for Canadians. One of which is, at some point as a kid, you're going to be put on skates. Some lingering homesickness had had me badger one of the Rock's master smiths to work up skates. They were castle-forged steel blades riveted to a wooden clog that were strapped onto a pair of winter boots like those old roller skates. I'd tested them out a couple weeks ago with the Lannisters watching to see the latest crazy-ass thing their new relative was trying.

I didn't embarrass myself. It's a bit like riding a bike. You don't forget it, even when the muscles the memory was in lie crushed beneath a shipping pallet across a dimension or five. Two days later I was giving Genna, Cerellle, and Rohanne some impromptu lessons. A day later Jeyne was out on the ice. Jason Lannister and several other men had had their own skates made when I described hockey to them. The first game of shinny in Westerosi history had a lot more in common with tourney melees than anything from the NFL. The men had adopted high-sticking and body checking as perfectly legal strategies. Apparently the smiths of the Rock and Lannisport had been deluged with orders for this new novelty.

Jeyne helped her husband to her feet. She was a natural on the blades. Emmon's memories of her dutiful dance with her at the wedding feast had her as a graceful hoofer. I bet that if she'd been a Canadian teen she'd have been a great figure skater. Cerelle and Rohanne rushed about the edge of the pond chasing Kevan and Genna. It was half-tag, half snowball fight. By the looks of it, the Lannisters were winning. Genna had a mean fastball. On bench sat Tywin. Alone. His skates were in a bag by his side. Silently, I sat down behind him. He read the parchment from the Banefort.

"Lord Greyjoy comes south with twenty ships," Tywin said.

"Enough for an escort, not enough to be a raiding party," I said. "He anchored at the Banefort and visited there. He's coming to talk."

"You were right that he would not call his banners to war," Tywin said. "How could you know he is a Qhorwyn instead of a Dagon?"

"If I told you, it would ruin the mystery," I replied. "Maybe you should have kept those reavers alive as hostages to trade for the women."

"Let the Reaper see what paying the iron price means in my lands," Tywin said. "You think I was too cruel, again."

"Oh hell no, those rapist shitstains deserved it," I said. "I'd have just had them hanged. But then, I don't have your puckish and winsome sense of humour."

"I can tell a joke, Emmon," Tywin said. "'What do you call a thousand gelded screaming ironborn mounted on spikes?"

"'A good start'." I mimed a rimshot. "Badum-tish. I admit I have a queasy stomach when it comes to executions. Sorry to disappoint you."

"You make up for it in other ways, goodbrother."

Steel scraped across ice.

"So, going out there with your family?" I asked.

"I will practice later, when I am alone," Tywin said.

"With your guards backs to you, so that they don't see you fall." I nodded at his family. "Tywin, you have years and years ahead of you to be the lord of the West. You're only ten once. They're your family. They love you."

"I am not-I will slip-"

"Tywin," I said quietly, "get your little ass out there and have fun. Or so help me I will beat said ass for wasting a chance to be with your family before you lose them."

His gold-green eyes glared at me.

"I totally will, you know."

Tywin laced up.

A huffing Rohanne squealed as she was driven off the ice by a fusillade from Team Lannister. She cowered beneath the barrage before crawling behind my bench for cover. Kevan and Genna taunted her to come out before a stern glance from me had them skittering away towards their next victim. I checked to see that my ward was alright. She seemed okay. She was laughing a little instead of traumatized. She was rubbing snow off her spectacles. I'd had them made for her by a master lensmaker at the Rock's port when I'd discovered she was near-sighted; the frames were a gold alloy worked up by one of the Rock's many goldsmiths. Weird thing. Planetos had sophisticated telescopes. But the eyeglasses from which telescopes had evolved from in my world didn't exist.

I noticed she was shivering. The pasting she had gotten at the losing end of the snowball fight had soaked her clothing. I offered her my arm to escort her home. I waved goodbye to Genna. She was too intent on inventing speed skating chasing Tywin around. His technique had improved fast after Genna had applied the motivational technique of percussive snowball reinforcement. Jeyne favored the girl with another dismissive look. Yeah, no love lost there. Ser Reynard emerged from the shadow of a tree to escort me through the paths in case any of my many enemies tried to even the score.

My villa was reached by the switchback road that wound up the Lion's Flank. The entire point of the arrangement seemed to be to allow each of the inhabitants on the level above to look down on those before. The manses of the merchants and traders deemed fit to reside on the lowest reaches of the Flank were similar-if more fancy-to the homes in town. It was the upper part of the flank where the architecture became interesting. The homes of the Lannett, Lanny, and Lantell clans reminded me of photos of Petra. Like the Nabateans, the facades of the homes of these Lannister cadet branches who were the Old Money of Lannisport had been carved out of the side of the Rock. Most had glass windows in them-a huge display of wealth in a medieval society.

The villa intended for the Tarbecks was tucked into the Flank right at the curve where the second-highest terrace lead to palace of the Lannisters of Lannisport. A stone wall topped with iron spikes encompassed a yard with the stables and other outbuildings along the edge. Broad stairs of marble imported from the Vale lead up the the main hall on the second floor. More humble doors at ground level lead to where the servants lived, along with th store-rooms and kitchens. I lived on the third level above the main hall. I had a solar with a southern exposure that had an excellent view of Lannisport and the harbour; the bedroom behind was insulated from the winter winds by a good foot of stone wall and the natural stone of the Rock. Genna's rooms were next door. Everything was furnished from the best that could be spared from the Rock. Maybe later I would have some pieces of our own made in town.

What I had definitely commissioned were as modern conveniences as could be managed. The smiths I had engaged to work up a water privy for the garderobe had thought me crazy. Screw it. I was not living in a house where my toilet options was essentially a one-holer. I hadn't been able to get a pull-chain arrangement. Flushing involved an iron hand-pump and a hand-filled cistern. But it worked once we got a U-trap working. The pot-bellied cast iron stove plumbed into the flues of the room's hearth had been seen as much more clever. A crackling fire was nice. But it did dick to actually warm up a room. Boilers and showers were still on the drawing board, though.

I settled into a chair by the stove-far away from the shuttered windows-to warm up from the walk home. Damn. This was shaping up to be a hard winter indeed. It was becoming Montreal-level chilly now. That was unusual for the West. A few minutes later, Rohanne padded into the room to settle by my feet on the Myrish carpet. She'd come to stick close to me whenever she was outside her uncle's immediate protection. I stroked her hair absently as she leaned her head against my leg.

"Ro, could I ask you something?" I said. "I thought you'd hate my guts for being responsible for what happened to your mother."

"My nuncle said you braved his displeasure to plead for justice for her," Rohanne said. "And then you told us that wonderful story of the brave hobbit. You fled the Rock for our sake to this manse, when you could have lived there."

"I moved out because living in the Rock is a claustrophobic nightmare." I sighed at her puzzled expression. "Right, you're half-Reyne. You're used to living in a mine. I'm not. I like air and light."

"Thank you for giving us the rooms we would have had," Rohanne said.

"Unlike my goodmother, I don't believe my wife's handmaids should be under the stairs," I said. "Tywin isn't giving you any problems is he?"

"He says he holds no hatred of us now." Rohanne shuddered. "Gods be good, he knows I laughed at Lord Tytos. What if he still plans to punish my sister and me?"

"Then he'll have to get through me." I patted her hair. "Want another chapter of Lion, Witch, and Wardrobe?"

"I'll wait for Cerelle and Genna." Rohanne hugged her knees to her chest. "Emmon?"

"Yes, Ro?"

"Does it make me a whore like my mother if I say I love you?"

Oh.

Fuck.

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Feb 8, 2016

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#548

This was karma.

This was Esther's meta joke for every half-assed ship I'd ever written.

Real-life harem shenanigans weren't amusing. Probably because, this being Westeros, the first volunteer was on her knees before me shaking in terror. Rohanne had laid her head against my knees, arms wrapped tight around them, as she shivered as if caught in a Northern gale. I patted her hair for lack of any other idea how to respond. I know I was supposed to be pithy, and understanding, and all that. But my limited store of eloquence had just checked out for a long vacation. I mean, what the hell do you say to something like that? What do you tell a traumatized twelve-year-old girl who has just admitted to something that could have Tywin throw her into the barracks for the guards to teach her a sharp lesson?

"Whore's blood. Traitor's blood." Rohanne moaned in agony. "They were right. I must be a whore. A whore tries to break a man's marriage vows just like mother tried."

"Who's said that to you?" I demanded.

"Everyone. Whispers in the halls," Rohanne said. "The Whore of Castamere's brat. Tossing stags and pennies. Asking whether I've done my duty as your bedwarmer."

Oh, god. I was always going on about how things looked.

I hadn't even considered the idea that they thought I'd taken in Rohanne and Cerelle for ulterior motives.

"Genna has been nothing but kindness to me," Rohanne said. "I must be a whore to repay her by wishing you could hold me close forever, to keep me safe-"

"Ro, that's nothing to be ashamed of," I said, trying the break the stranglehold around my legs. "You're not a bad person for wanting comfort and safety. I promise, there's someone out there for you. I'll find a good match."

"WHO WILL HAVE ME?" Rohanne's shriek rattled the diamond-paned windows. "No title, no lands, my mother a slut had by near-every man in the West as they tell it. A hostage. Lady Jeyne will have me married off to a bastard or an idiot or an old man from their kin in Lannisport. Cerelle's being married to the kennelmaster's son!"

"Back up, they didn't consult me!"

"They have, I heard the chambermaids in the Rock laughing about it." Rohanne looked up. "I don't want that. I want to be safe. With you."

"Come on, with a face like mine, I'm your knight in shining armor?"

"All the handsome knights and lords, singing of the lioness they had for silver." Rohanne kissed my hand. "I can warm your bed. I'll be good. Humble. I learned my lesson. I will never shame Genna or be her rival. If you put bastards in my belly, I'll say they were the pot-boy's. Please. I'm so afraid and so cold. Forgive me."

The last time I had heard a female voice cry the way she did was when my aunt keened over the coffin of her murdered child.

"Don't send me into the cold like Mother."

The kennelmaster's son. I had completely forgotten about that. The incident with the lions and the dogs had happened two years ago in the autumn. Tytos had granted the keep to the newly-knighted Ser Clegane for saving him. His son had been taken as Tytos' squire, though it was the master-of-arms who seemed to train the boy. The timing seemed off, by my reckoning. Gregor and Sandor would have been born a good ten to fifteen years from now. But then the kennelmaster's son could have lost a previous wife to childbirth, or not found a bride willing to live in such a remote fief until later. If he was granted Cerelle as a wife, would the monster that would be the Mountain that Rides be born? Or would the different genetics involved butterfly away his existence?

It shouldn't have surprised me that Jeyne went behind my back to arrange the betrothal. What the hell did I know about making matches? A shadchan I wasn't. Hell, I was even less qualified than Tytos "Walder seems a Good Fellow" Lannister to do that. No wonder Jeyne had assumed the duty of setting it up. It made a nasty sort of sense. The elder Clegane was a landed knight beholden to Casterly Rock. His lands were said to be rich enough that Cerelle could be said to be lucky to be the eventual Lady of Clegane Keep. Not to mention the symbolism of a girl with leonine heraldry being married into a line whose arms symbolized the tearing apart of a lioness who dared attack a Lannister. It would be presented as an entirely reasonable affair, just sign here and here, don't bother your head about it. You have more lofty things to do, my lord.

Rohanne cried out in her sleep. I gently resumed rubbing circles on her shoulders. Back-rubs were my default technique for calming down women. She snuggled deeper under the covers on my bed as whatever nightmare vision subsided. No, I had not taken her to bed that way. There was nothing Playboy Channel about this scene. God. Rohanne had tried climbing into my lap and kissing me in some child's poor, desperate mockery of a seduction attempt. I'd sat limp-trust me, in every possible sense-in paralysed horror at that. I was going to have my skull cut open and filled with lye to rid me of that little episode. Fuck Westeros. Fuck it's twisted sexual mores that make girls feel shame for things not their fault. Fuck this place in the heart. You hear that, Estherhulhu? I want out. Drop a meteorite on my head. I dare you. I dare you!

Esther settled atop Rohanne's side and tongue-groomed the back of my hand.

Not. Helping.

The door eased open. Megga came in with a goblet of mulled wine. Did I pay her too little? Let's say I did. Totally was going to double her salary right this second. She eased Rohanne away from me, swaddling her deeper into the blanket-cocoon, as I drank spiced wine. It tasted of ambrosia. The head of the household gazed down on Rohanne with the terrible knowledge of one who has known how vulnerable a woman can be in this society. Rohanne hadn't exactly been quiet. Megga had likely heard a few choice remarks. She had hired loyal servants-screened by the Rock's seneschal-but the rumour would spread.

"Your wife returned an hour ago," Megga said. "I said you were retiring for a nap. She and Lynora are together in her rooms, doing what girls do."

"Thanks for the distraction," I said. "I screwed up taking her and Cerelle in, didn't I?"

"You meant well, Emmon," Megga said. "But it would have been better to give them to the Faith."

"The career paths for women in Seven Kingdoms need some updating," I mumbled. "I never realized she was being bullied."

"A man wouldn't," Megga replied. "Will you be taking her to bed, when she flowers, my lord?"

"I thought we already established that, when you tested me," I said.

"I was Ser Jason's woman. Lynora was the daughter of your host." Megga nodded at the sleeping Rohanne. "She has no-one save you. She is willing, as much as a maid in her straits can be. She'll be beautiful when she is five- or six-and-ten, a woman grown."

I squirmed under Megga's knowing gaze.

Like I said, I'm no knight in shining armor. Now, the idea of Rohanne in any shape or form in that manner made my skin crawl.

Later, in a few years of marriage to a girl who would still be a child when Rohanne was a teenager nearly my body's physical age?

Would I be so noble then?

"This...just became complicated, didn't it?"

"Yes, my lord. Yes, indeed."

Feb 11, 2016

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#581

Some days you just have to beat the shit out of an inanimate object.

A vicious wind whipped snow around the walled yard of my manse. In spite of the cold, I was sweating buckets beneath the boiled leather jack and gambeson beneath. The ironwood pollaxe waster slammed into the oak pell with a satisfying thunk. I'd taken up training with arms with Ser Jason after it became clear that eventually someone was going to get past Ser Reynard's not-entirely-vigilant guard. Self-defense had gone from sport to vital necessity. I had surprised myself at being not entirely useless with a blade. Emmon's body had much better reflexes than my old one. The remnants of his own lessons along with near-forgotten experiences at a CEGEP fencing course-along with Jason's merciless drilling-had buffed up what skills Emmon had had. I could probably enter a melee with blunted longsword and buckler without making an ass of myself. I could probably ward off one or two exchanges until a guard could gut my opponent for me.

The sword wasn't my favorite weapon. It was a betrayal of every time I'd played lightsaber as a kid. But I'd settled on the pollaxe as my best friend if I was headed out onto the battlefield. It was the Swiss Army knife of foot combat: axe or hammer head on the business side, a spike on the back, and a short blade on the top. Slash, hook, thrust, strike with the butt: over and over until I could forget what I'd seen. Megga had screamed at me to come see what Rohanne had done to herself. The girl had cowered in the tub while I stared at the welts and scars crisscrossing her back. Some evil fucker had slipped Rohanne a leather scourge to "cleanse herself". She had been doing it on the sly. Biting down on a cloth as she hurt herself over and over.

I was screaming as I battered the pell.

Some things in life are bad

They can really make you mad

Other things just make you swear and curse.

This fucking place.

If life seems jolly rotten

There's something you've forgotten

And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing.

No easy quip or clever plan could help her.

Life's a piece of shit

When you look at it

Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true.

You'll see it's all a show

Keep 'em laughing as you go

Just remember that the last laugh is on you.

Bastards. Just like all those times I'd dwelled on the bullying in my school years, the urge to rip those pricks' faces off, I was going to hire every single Faceless Man in Braavos if I had to-

A soft "Emm?" cut through my rage. I rounded about to snarl at the interruption. I don't take kindly to surprised. Bright green eyes stared out from the folds of a gold-and-crimson scarf. Genna was bundled up in woolens and furs against the chill. In her hands was a steaming tankard. Tamping down on my rage, I sipped the morning pick-me-up of wakebean tea and hot rum that Megga must have prepared. The adrenaline rush had faded by the time I was a quarter way through. I leaned the polleaxe waster against a wall before following my wife to a bench out of the wind. From a cloth came buttered bagels still hot from the oven. Silently, I ate four while Genna sat beside me. She kicked her feet idly.

"That was a very nice song," Genna said. "Until you got to the other parts."

"Always look on the bright side of life," I crooned.

"Ro confessed to me this morning," Genna said.

"Don't be angry at her," I replied. "She's sick in her mind. Not to mention that her conniving bitch of a mother taught her that the way to get ahead was to attach herself to a man."

"Mother said it might happen," Genna said. "Because I'm so much younger than you. You're a man nearly-grown, so you might be with someone to be with as a man is with a maid."

Oh, hell no. This wasn't happening.

I wasn't being given a lecture on situational polyamory by a seven year old girl.

"She-she said that I had to be dignified and forgive you," Genna continued. "That I had to prove myself a good wife so you wouldn't do that when I became a maiden flowered."

"You shouldn't know these things," I said.

"Emm, you schmuck, I've seen dogs and horses before." Genna shivered. "Ugh. Is it like that?"

"Possibly with even more barking and neighing," I said. "The last thing I want right now is to be with Rohanne that way."

"She loves you." Genna fiddled with her scarf. "I like you Emm. I really do."

"But you don't love me."

"Not now. I think I can. I think I could," Genna said. "But if you have to...do it, Rohanne's nice. And she needs someone to care for her."

"Genna, this is officially the second most fucked-up conversation I've had. Ever." I drank the rest of the not-Irish-coffee. "If I took what Rohanne offered, it'd be rape. As bad as I forced her at swordspoint. What I want to do is heal her. Only I have no idea how."

"You could send her to the Faith," Genna offered.

"I think she would commit suicide if I sent her away," I said. "A marriage won't work. She's terrified of marrying below her station."

"That's just her stupid Tarbeck pride," Genna said. "I was married to a Frey. You don't hear me screaming about it."

"Heh." I hugged her with one arm. "What I'd like to do is offer her another chance. Something she can do."

"Mmmm." Genna's eyes scrunched up with calculation. "She could, um, work for a toymaker? She makes wonderful dresses for her dolls. Jewelry too."

"I'll start asking around for apprenticeships."

The winter cold finally penetrated my practice armor God. Seasons here lasted years. It would be like that horrible stretch from January to March back home when the dark times bit in hard. I couldn't imagine living into a Long Night. Honestly, I'd been dicking around with the issue of the Others. I'd gotten a couple of favors to be redeemed later from Walder and Tywin. I'd sent a sealed message with the guards escorting the Tarbecks meant for the Wall for Maester Aemon. It was written as a request for research in Castle Black's archives on dragonglass and Valyrian steel on the Others. I hadn't trusted Maester Beldon with anything meant for Aemon. He might be innocent. He might be in on whatever conspiracy the Citadel had against magic. Other than those efforts, I hadn't done much to prepare for the war coming down the pike.

I'd been distracted, alright?

The steaming tub waiting for me washed away some of the horror of Rohanne's revelations. The rum did its part too. I lounged in my solar in a warm robe considering what the hell to do with the girl. Keeping her as Genna's handmaid was right out. There had to be something she could do in my household beside be yet another maid. I already had a staff of them hired on Megga's discretion. Okay. The girl was literate. She had contact with the nobility from being groomed for marriage. Could she act as a secretary? I had no idea how to communicate with lords. Rohanne might be better able to handle the correspondence I was going to be doing with some major actors on the Westerosi stage. Or, something less ambitious. Putting her in charge of the library I was planning for my manse?

Lynora came in bearing some dolls. What? Oh, right, Genna's suggestion. As childish as it was, it reminded me that Genna was my wife. And was very likely a lot smarter than me and old Emmon combined. I should be including her in decisions. I idly held up a doll to the lamplight. Then I looked at it with a lot more admiration. The girl's needlework was exquisite. Every drape and fold of the tiny gown was perfect. It was the height of the fashion I'd seen in the finery sported by the highborn in the Rock. The jewelry at the wrists and neck of the doll was cloth of gold strands with seed pearls and chips of semiprecious stone cunningly bound into the weave.

Huh.

Interesting.

Last edited: Feb 11, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#611

One of the pleasant surprises of the past few weeks was finding out Tytos Lannister was not a complete incompetent.

I found him in one of the many huge chambers carved out of the Rock. It had once been an indoor list meant to let the knights and guards of the Rock train with the lance. Clean soil had been spread over the hard stone floor as a cushion for the horses. Tytos had appropriated it as a test track. He chatted animatedly with a master carriage-maker as the latest prototype of a stagecoach navigated a course that simulated the many road surfaces found in Westeros. That would be "bad", "worse", and "quagmire". Seriously. Even the major thoroughfares like the kingsroad were oversized dirt roads whose main form of maintenance was a log dragged across the surface every so often and paying local smallfolk to fill in the worst holes. The stagecoach was based on my memories of Old West movies and a sketchy understanding of the leaf spring concept. The skeletal carriage pulled by a four-in-hand team bounced like a trampoline on crack on crude springs of castle-forged steel as it went over sections of cobblestone, rutted dirt, and rock-strewn path. At least now there was the concept of "suspension" in Westerosi transport.

Tytos and the carriage-maker were now discussing a mock-up of the interior. Say what you will about Tytos' inability to manage his bannermen. When it came to creature comforts, the man was a stickler for quality of the highest order. He was still, well, him. Any cook or wine-steward who disappointed him was pawned off with an extravagant bribe and a glowing letter of recommendation; it was Jeyne who handled the actual firing of staff who didn't measure up to his standards. But it did mean Tytos had an eye when it came to the consumer experience. I heard him lecture the upholsterers and woodworkers who had gathered around him on proper stitching techniques. The merchants who had come to bid for the rights to provide linens and furniture to the hostels discovered that the Laughing Lion could be rather snappish if the thread count wasn't up to snuff.

After a while to get to know him, I was ashamed of how I had disparaged him when I'd first been planted in Emmon's brain. Tytos had huge flaws. But he reminded me of an uncle who my late father had had contempt for. I'd adopted my father's attitude for a while that the uncle was the sad-sack of the family. There had been some truth to that. My uncle had his problems. He also was a damned smart man who had found a new career as in the interior design field; my sister had relied on him for the renovation for her first house. It turned out that Tytos was an enthusiastic leader who got on well with his subordinates. He had a knack for inspiring the workmen on his team to do their best. The trick was to ensure the financials were handled by a separate staff firmly out of his control, with constant audits to keep his worst tendencies in check. The fact that if he went over budget meant he would have to confront Tywin for more money also did wonders to stiffen his spine.

Tytos clapped me on the back when he spotted me. We retired to the offices of the Steward of Inns and Mails. It was a couple of rooms tucked out of the way in the area of the Rock dedicated to the chief officers of the household. The outer chamber was dominated by a large table with a map of the Westerlands inked on canvas. Charcoal scribbles of existing inns, road conditions, and other matters clustered along the dotted lines delineating the river, ocean, and gold roads. Around the edges of the room were models of stagecoaches, samples of fabrics, and examples of pewter and silver table services. Tytos ushered me into the inner offices where he could chat with important people in private. I accepted a glass of tart Riverlands wine and a piquant cheese from a plate offered by a servant.

"Goodson, so good to see you!" Tytos said. "Have the Sarsfield blue. One of my favorites, it goes well with this vintage."

"You really got the bit between your teeth on this Lord of Innkeepers schtick," I said, nibbling the cheese. Stronger than I preferred-I had been a havarti man in my old life-but Tytos was right about the combination of cheese and wine.

"I find these bannemen far less troublesome to rule." Tytos beamed. "I've even come to bring the Faith into the enterprise. They will establish the coaching inns as septries, to avoid conflict with my fellow Lords-Paramount if I seek to extend them beyond the West."

"Tytos Lannister, super genius," I replied. Damn. That was impressive.

"I do have a gift for shying away from conflict," Tytos said, a touch wryly. "Still, I think I've shocked Tywin. He complimented me last eve at dinner at my efforts."

"You earned his undying if embarrassed respect when you showed your ass to the lords of the West."

"Oh gods, don't bring that back. I was drunk out of my head." Tytos waggled his brows. "Although I must say that my lady wife has been more affectionate since that episode. One married man to another."

"Innkeep and saucy tavern wench?" I asked. "She get caught pocketing the silver and need a spanking?"

Tytos flushed...but there was a sparkle in his eyes.

"Kiiiiinky," I drawled out in my best Mel Brooks impression. "Actually, I'd like to talk to you about her. I finally realized she's been a touch frosty over my missing out on the implications of taking in the Tarbeck girls."

"That chill is nothing compared to what I endured after betrothing Genna to you." Tytos shuddered. "She is annoyed, true. She just thinks you a thunderous fool, though she calls most men that."

"So that's where it came from," I muttered. I sipped more wine. "About that. It seems that Rohanne got the same idea. Uh. Last night, she-"

The tears finally broke.

Tytos's hand laid itself on my shoulder when I came to an end.

"Rohanne's a fucking kid who should be stealing kisses from squires," I said, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. "Not offering herself as a gods-damned cockwarmer while screaming she had tainted blood. And there's just enough of a me to think that's a damned convenient arrangement."

"Not enough of one to take advantage," Tytos said.

"They're wrong about you," I said. "That you don't have courage. Manning up when Ellyn tried to seduce you, confessing to your wife? Tywin should realize that was true bravery."

"Strange, I recall being sick to my stomach and terrified out of my wits," Tytos said. "Emmon, I have no advice to give you. I would pray you stay true to Genna. But a man's household is his own. I will speak to my lady wife."

"Show her this." I handed that to him. "Let her know what her little vendetta is doing."

Tytos blanched. He dangled the offending object from the tips of his fingers like it was a dead rat. His features assumed the very rare-for him-cast of determined fury. I followed him as he stormed through the halls of the Rock. Servants scattered like autumn leaves before the wind. Whispers erupted as we passed at seeing the Laughing Lion so wroth. The two of us ascended to the private apartments of the Lannisters several levels above. We emerged into an interior courtyard lit from high above by a leaded-glass dome set into the southern face of the Rock.

I felt pity for Jeyne. Her features flushed with affection for a brief moment when Tytos entered. In her lap was little Tygett Lannister waving a toy sword about as she waved a tiny shield on a string before her youngest son. In her mind everything was wonderful. Her eldest son had avenged her. Her husband had found a life that suited him. All was good. All was restored. And then Tytos showed her the whip with braided leather thongs Rohanne had been using in secret for over two weeks. God. Some of the cuts left by them had become scars that she would bare for the rest of her days. There was still blood dappling the scourge's metal tips. Tygett squalled as his mother clamped her hand over her mouth, dry-heaving.

Another good thing about Tytos: he was excellent with his children when not marrying them off in horribly inappropriate matches. He gently relieved his wife of Tygett. Dandling him in the crook of an arm, he had the kid chortling as he made funny faces at the two-year-old boy. I wished I'd been as cool an uncle as he was a father. Hell, I hoped I could be half the father he was when I did the expected deed with Genna when she grew up. I sat quietly beside Jeyne as she processed how far things had gone. It took a long time before she recovered enough exposure to speak.

"I will dismiss Septa Argella immediately," Jeyne said.

"I want that holy rolling bitch chucked out the Rock by trebuchet," I said. "Better yet, let's take a Tywinesque approach. She's so concerned about the souls of whores? Tell the septon of the Golden Sept to send her to minister in the dockside brothels."

"You have my son's manner down." Jeyne dabbed her eyes dry with a silk kerchief. "I swear by the Gods, I will end this nonsense immediately."

"You had better. You were the one who started it," I said. "Jason Lannister may have given the orders to the guards. It was you who had Ellyn Tarbeck staked out like a goat to be packraped?"

"I-" Jeyne twisted the kerchief into a rat-tail. "Don't tell Tytos. I could not bear to lose his respect."

"The only thing I agree with Tywin's sharp lesson is that he took responsibility for it, out and proud," I said. "I'm going to ask you something huge, Jeyne. Rohanne needs a mother. You deprived her of hers. Goods reasons or not, what you did gave Tywin the idea to destroy Ellyn the way he did. Rohanne's the human face of the cost of that."

"The gods put hard tasks before us," Jeyne said. "Emmon, I have not made any formal arrangements for Cerelle and Ser Medgar Clegane's son. It was my husband who suggested the match. We would have spoke to you."

"Water under the bridge," I said. I squeezed her hand. "I am going to bring him in as a squire to Ser Reynard. The prestige of being Tytos' squire is admirable. But the fox can train...uh, what's his name?"

"Egon," Jeyne said. "Three-and-ten as of this year. Low-born, of course, but he has a stout heart. Quiet. Good with dogs."

"Tell him to bring Cerelle a puppy, we'll have them hitched in a month," I replied. "Ser Reynard can train Egon. With Cerelle and him in the same household? Well, let's see what we'll see."

"Wise. Best to allow affection to bloom in prepared ground." Jeyne nodded. "And Rohanne?"

"I have an idea..."

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#647

It was over.

Emmon would send her into the cold.

How could he not, when she had shamed herself so before him? How could he stand to have a scarred whore in his bed? Rohanne lay abed awaiting the word that she would be cast out from the manse. She wondered where she might be sent. Like as not to the silent sisters like mother, or to the Golden Sept to be trained to the Faith. Or else Lord Tywin might hear of her attempt to seduce his sister's husband. She might be put into the brothels like the common whore she was. Better she be. How she had shamed herself for nothing. She had heard him this morning in the yard shouting in his anger at her act.

A hand shook her shoulder. It was the Lannister bastard who Emmon had taken in as his cupbearer. Rohanne bit back her anger at Lynora Hill's temerity for entering her room without leave. The natural born girl was so far above her in Emmon's estimation, for all that Rohanne was highborn of Reyne and Tarbeck blood. Her blood was nothing more than a stew of treachery and filth worse than any bastard's born of lust. Dully, Rohanne prepared herself for her audience with Emmon. She must look pretty. Mother had said that was important. A girl should always be beautiful before men. It made them weak. Only mother was no longer so beautiful after the men had been done with her. None of her prettiness could save Rohanne now.

Lord Royce`s solar was lit only by a fire in the hearth. Where was he? Rohanne's breath caught when she saw the gown lit against the fire. It was laid over a draper's mannequin. Oh, so lovely! It was the height of Lannisport fashion. Beautiful embroidery and jewels sparkled in the fine silk. There were Summer Island pearls and emeralds and gold thread and such lovely stitching. Oh, how she had loved being Mother's admiring lady-in-waiting as Mother paraded one dress after another made in Oldtown, and altered to fit so cunningly by the seamstresses paid for by the gold her mother had winkled out of Casterly Rock. Some day, Mother always promised, they would both be in their rooms at the Rock while the weak lions within shivered in the cold.

Rohanne blinked.

She had seen this fashion before on Lady-

Cloth rustled behind her.

Rohanne twisted about to find Lady Jeyne sitting in a corner.

She fell to her knees awaiting the axe to come.

"You poor girl."

"My lady?" Rohanne whispered.

"I have been cruel to you, Rohanne, in my hatred of your mother," Lady Jeyne knelt before her. "I did not order the campaign of whispers against you. But I did nothing to stop it."

"You know what I tried to do," Rohanne said. "I tried to betray Genna as Mother tried to betray you."

"Ellyn sought to seduce Tytos around me out of pride and malice," Lady Jeyne replied. "Hush, sweetling. My goodson told me of the circumstances. What you did was a sin, but one of desperation."

"I love him. I do," Rohanne whispered. "I thought he would understand. He has such pain in his eyes. The same as mine. But how could he love a traitorous whore?"

"Oh sweetling, we must both pray," Lady Jeyne said. "Myself to the Mother for forgetting that my duty is to love and care. You to the Maiden to remind yourself that you are nothing of the sort."

"The gods love me not, anymore," Rohanne said.

"No-one is denied the light of the Seven-in-One," Lady Jeyne said. "Even your mother saw the light, at the end. My goodson is not casting you out, Rohanne. He has an odd wisdom about him."

"The Faith, then?"

"No, child." Lady Jeyne nodded at the gown. "You have your mother's flair for beauty. I admired that about her if nothing else. Genna showed me your fine hand with needle and thread. Emmon is right. You have a better fate than whore."

"What else is there for me?" Rohanne said, puzzled. What else could she do except lie with a man?

"Beauty", Lady Jeyne said. "For he means to make you the artist you might become."

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#678

Before my death, I had been invited to be a moderator on SpaceBattles. The staff had apparently thought that my constant presence on the forums and pristine record qualified me for mod duties. I joked at the time when I accepted that I wasn't sure whether it was an honour or a punishment. A few weeks of reading reported items of the various snits and pissing matches on NSFW and such convinced me that karma was indeed a bitch. It was why I was a total lightweight compared to the heavyweights on staff; I lacked patience trying to parse things like bad-faith debating and such as infractable offenses. I stuck to dealing with simpler things like deleting imageposts, warning derailers to get back on the tracks, and other simpler issues.

All in all, a good introduction to being a lord in Westeros.

I rested my chin on my fist as I listened to Ser Whoever and Ser Whatchamacallit shout at each other. My horrible memory for names had carried over after being rebooted in Emmon's brain. They were the latest of an endless parade of petty lordlings and landed knights who had attended Genna's first audience as Lady of Tarbeck Hall. Actually, she was playing with dolls behind a screen in the back of the manse's great hall while I subbed in for her in the big chair on the dais. Genna had done her best to solemnly swear in the assembly and look attentive while I played Lord of the Manor for her. But like me at family dinners, she fled to the back for quiet time as the hours rolled along.

Most of the attendees were happy to regain the holdfasts that the Tarbecks had stolen from them. There's always a couple in every barrel that weren't counting their blessings. These two fuckwits were Those Guys. The issue of this teapot tempest was hunting rights in a wood on the border of their lands. The original boundary established back in the day had been a brook whose course had run along one side of the wood. Naturally, about eighty years back a storm had caused the brook to shift to a new channel that ran through the center of the woods. This had precipitated a grudge match between the two houses that had snowballed into the kind of sober, reasoned debate found in Youtube comments. The actual issue had become clouded by decades of he said/he fucked one of my servants/you smell like elderberries.

This required a delicate touch.

The silver stag flipped through the air. I slapped my hand down on it when it landed on the back of my left hand.

"Call it," I demanded.

"My lord?" the two Ser Fuckwits asked.

"Heads or tails. Sorry, crowns or stags," I said, shifting to local terms. "First one to pick decides which one. Or else I swear by the gods old and new my judgement will involve turning the property in question over to Lord Farman for wood for the fleet. And after he has the woodsmen cut down all the trees, I will personally take a plow and a bag of salt to the land."

The two landed knights exchanged shocked looks.

"Or would you like me to assign you new holdfasts on opposite sides of my lands? Anyone?"

"CROWNS!" shouted Ser Whoever, before Ser Whatchamacallit could react.

"Sadly, it's stags on this flip," I said, revealing the result. "This year, ser, you have the hunting rights. Next year, at this same date, we'll flip again to see who has them for that year. Or the two of you take a deep breath, retire to a tavern, and hash out a compromise. No duels over this either. Your respective sires tried that and ended up accusing each other of cheating for the rest of their lives. As I've heard over and over."

A giggle came from behind the screen after the two idiots had left.

"Oppression intensifies," I muttered, sipping ale. I needed a drink after that.

"Someone's been learning from my brother," Genna sang out, cradling Ser Pounce the Lion.

"Correction: I'm the one who gave him his best lines." I sighed. "Grow up quicker, so you can deal with this kind of idiocy. Swear to the gods, that's an hour I'll never get back."

"I'll be too busy as Tywin's Mistress of Works," Genna said haughtily. "I give you leave to deal with these petty concerns."

"Little brat," I muttered.

Septa Serelle came in to summon Genna to her lessons for the day. Her former governess Septa Argella had been assigned a new brief ministering to the spiritual needs of the miners by my goodmother; the whittering bitch who had given Rohanne the scourge had been lead weeping from the Lady of the Rock's solar by two redcloaks. I smiled fondly as I sipped my ale as I thought of Genna's enthusiasm for studying engineering. It turned out she was a goddamned prodigy at mathematics. Not anything that had been indicated in the one appearance she had had in the books. But there was one hell of a brain in that little girl's head which responded eagerly to Maester Beldon's advanced lessons. Any reluctance he had had in teaching subjects not usually learned by the "feeble minds of women" was choked down by the lure of exclusive access to my ideas. Still, that didn't excuse Genna from learning needlework and courtesies from her septa.

Egon Clegane escorted me out of the manse as we rode down into town. Tytos' former squire was a rawboned lad of nearly six feet with dark hair and a beak of a nose. He was strong enough to bear the weight of mail and back-and-breast even though he was only thirteen years old. Ser Reynard had judged him a competent enough fighter to act as a bodyguard, though his manners and skill with the lance needed a lot of polishing. I was just relieved that Ser Reynard wasn't my constant companion anymore. It was nerve-wracking relying on him for close protection. I'd granted him leave to guard Rohanne against any further harassment as she began her new course of study auditing goldsmiths, lapidiaries, and drapers.

There hadn't been any more...incidents since Jeyne had prayed with her in my solar a few days ago. Rohanne had kept her distance from me. Part of me was relieved. Another part was disappointed. I wasn't even sure if my idea to develop her artistic talents had seemed insulting to her, and she was too eager to please me to say she was shamed by the idea. I'd had a half-assed idea to turn her into Westeros' first fashion designer, using the new printing press to produce catalogs of her work. Jeyne had told me that meant trade-a horrific social disgrace to a highborn girl such as Rohanne. Instead, we had hashed out a sinecure for her in court as a future Mistress of Robes and Gems. Not at all the innovation I'd envisioned, but at least she could have the style of a noble girl.

We hitched our horses to a public post by a horse trough in the Artisan's Quarter. This section of Lannisport was a maze of streets and alleys where the famed goldsmiths, jewellers, and other skilled professions plied their trade out of tiny shops. I settled into my usual amble through the city. I'd gotten back into my old habit of wandering around interesting neighborhoods. It was an eccentricity among the many others that distinguished me from other nobles. I noticed several coppersmiths had versions of my pour-over coffee maker out for sale. Quality wakebean was very rare. I pretty much had the only large stash of it. But apparently I had started a fad among the upper crust to seem hep and with it to the whims of the favored goodbrother of their new Lord-Paramount. I had become a herald of fashion.

Now that was weird.

I stopped by the coppersmith who had created that first coffee-maker. He eagerly tugged his forelock to his most distinguished customer as he showed off my latest order. I examined the hourglass of copper and glass he had made to my specifications. I'd read about siphon pots while researching for a fic involving a reverse ISOT of Agatha Heterodyne into my world. It was a deeply geeky coffee brewing method I was eager to try out. The rubber gaskets used for the seal weren't available-yet-in Westeros. The coppersmith had instead created a tight-fitting metal collar that could maintain the seal between the copper reservoir and glass globe brewing chamber.

"My lord Royce?"

"Mmmm?" Oh, great, please not be Ser Fuckwit again. "Ah, yes?"

"Permit me to introduce m'self," the stranger said, a grizzled man in the silks and velvets of a wealthy merchant. "Artos Stone the Spicer, at your service. I've a shipment in of fine wakebean, if it please m'lord."

"Lead on, my friend," I said.

"Thank you for your indulgence, milord. It be at my wife's shop."

Wait.

Spicer.

Maggy the Frog.

Last edited: Feb 22, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#764

I had completely forgotten about Maggy the Frog.

I struggled not to stare at Artos Stone's wife as she tended to my prototype siphon pot. She was nothing like the witchy-crone Cersei had described in the novels. Then again, that had been the queen of self-delusion recalling the memories of a young girl. The spicer's wife was perhaps ten years younger than Artos' sixty-and-some. Some of the exotic beauty of her youth remained in her greying hair and still-curvy figure. There was a touch of copper to her skin and a tilt to her eyes that hinted at Dothraki or Lhazarene heritage along with perhaps some Yi Ti. Maybe a little foreign even for a cosmopolitan city such as Lannisport. But she didn't seem the type to inspire rumours of spellcraft and curses among the womenfolk of the town.

Still, being so near her made my flesh crawl. I had managed to regain some facade of normality in spite of seeing Esther pop up every so often. I had even suppressed the existential horror of my resurrection amid the busywork of establishing myself in this new existence. Yet Maggy was an unwelcome reminder that I was a pawn in a game where eldritch forces were at work. Not as active as they would be near the turn of the century, but the hidden hands that had nudged the prophetess of High Heart into the vision that had driven Aegon V to try whatever had caused Tragedy at Summerhall were at work. I was placing myself in play against the singers of ice and fire in a world where things out of Lovecraft existed beneath a mundane reality of medieval life and political games.

The grounds infused in the upper glass chamber of my new coffee-maker for a minute before she removed the alcohol burner. With a gurgle, the steam condensing in the copper vessel created a vacuum that sucked the wakebean tea through a percolator-style strainer disk in the neck. The scent after it was done was heavenly. It mingled with the exotic scents in Artos Spicer's shop: saffron and pepper, nutmeg and cinnamon, and even more exotic seasons imported as far away as Qarth and the Summer Isles. His establishment was surprisingly humble in spite of the obvious wealth of his clothing; it was a shop and home in a quarter near the docks where the middling merchants plied their trade. His home would be above the tiny shop, and above it the store-rooms where the bulk of his inventory was secured. From what little I knew of local prices, his stock represented a value that could have bought a manse on the lower reaches of the Lion`s Flank.

Maggy poured Artos and I a cup each of coffee. The spicer`s scarred, massive hands cradling the porcelain imported from far Yi Ti were not those of a soft merchant. They had seen hard work on the decks of ships. Given the scars on his cheeks, they had also gripped the haft of a sword during his days sailing in the east. I blew on my cup-ostensibly to cool it-as I waited to see if the man dropped dead in front of me. Spices could also be poisons. Call me paranoid, but if I was going to off a guy who had cause me endless grief and was willing to pursue unchivalrous means? Going to the woman known for brewing potions for a little murder in a cup would be a logical step. I wasn't sure if Maggy or Artos would be crazy enough to do it so blatantly. But you never knew.

"Clever little device," Artos said, smacking his lips. "Seems something a maester would think up."

"The maester at the Twins had an apparatus like this," I lied. "It's where I cultivated a taste for the drink."

"Exotic tastes, m'lord. Of course your father's house is rich," Artos said.

"You seem to be doing well yourself, Master Stone," I replied. "Although I'd think you would be living in more luxury given how successful you seem to be.'

"Oh, I've done well-enough," Artos said a little too casually. "Been many a year since I sailed to the east. I barter, I trade, I have shares in certain ships. It's me son Harrold-Ser Harrold-who sails now. Fine captain, commands his own galley. Does a run regular 'tween Oldtown and Lannisport."

"Not in trade?" I asked.

"No, 'tis me that's the merchant." Artos smiled. "Lord Webber took him to squire at Coldmoat in exchange for the spices at his daughter's wedding feast. Me Harrold's learned his courtesies well. Better than some old bastard from Gulltown, if you pardon my vulgarity, m'lord."

I thought about how ambitious the Spicers had been, marrying into an old but impoverished house two generations after this man had established their fortune.

The relative humbleness of Artos Stone's abode now made much more sense.

"You want land and title for your son," I said. "You've tried to get one of the debtor lords with a daughter to marry him in, only no takers."

"Plainly put, m'lord." Artos' eyes narrowed. "Them selling their lands and any spare they can for coin. Mine's as good as any, only no-one will soil themselves with a bastard merchant's son. But you were born a Frey before you took back the Royce name. I'm thinking you're a practical man, m'lord."

"I'm not hurting for dragons," I replied.

"There's land bordering yours, what used to be ruled by the Reynes before they had to sell to Lord Marband," Artos said. "Sweetdale Lodge, good hunting woods, fertile lands. The Lord o' Ashemark won't sell to the likes of me. But if you buy it, who's to know if it's my dragons you're spending? Name my son as your bannerman, he'll come with enough gold for a garrison to guard you from them red lions."

"Expecting me to take a cut of my own?" I asked.

"No, m'lord. I'd offer my shares in those ships," Artos said. "Three galleys of eighty oars each, two cogs, and a carrack. You'll have your own small fleet to fly your banners, no cost to you. Me Harrold's a fine man. Taught him all I know of trade. He'll manage his fief well and render you leal service."

"Does he have children?" I asked.

"Little Rolph, seen his seventh nameday a moon's turn ago," Artos said.

"I promised to find a good match for someone's daughter," I said, feeling a bit skeevy at this kind of negotiation. "Lynora Hill, Ser Jason's child and my cupbearer. A betrothal, to see if they suit one another as they grow up. If necessary, I will press Tywin to ask the crown for legitimization."

"Half a Lannister is better than none at all," Artos mused. "Done and done. 'Tis a pleasure doing business with a lord who don't feel soiled about such dealings."

"Lannisters pay their debts. Freys know the value of a toll," I replied. "Actually, I would appreciate your advice on a venture I was considering. I read about the Night Watch's skill at harvesting ice. It gave me an idea."

I pounded my goblet on the table after quaffing another cup of sweet Dornish rose.

My mother sells ale to sailors,

My father rents the rooms of the inn,

My sister fucks them upstairs for coppers,

My gods how the dragons roll in!

My gods my gods my gods how the dragons roll in!

Artos slugged back his own cup.

My cousin the septon hears the confessions of highborn ladies,

You wouldn't believe the accounts of their sins,

He peddles their secrets to the Master of Whisperers,

My gods how the dragons roll in!

My gods my god my gods how the dragons roll in!

Maggy refilled my goblet.

My uncle's a sellsword in Essos,

He'd paid well when his side wins!

If not, he hides and loots the bodies,

My gods how the dragons roll in!

My gods my gods my gods how the dragons roll in!

Artos and my voice joined in not-so-mutual harmony.

We're a family of upjumped merchants,

Our honour is worth less than tin,

But our coffers are filled with silver and gold,

Because we know how to make the dragons roll in!

My gods my gods my gods how the dragons roll in!

Ice trade was a go!

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#850

So much money.

Heh.

Well, Artos was going to make so much money. My skills as a business tycoon were between jack and squat. Cal me Vision Guy. Heh. Holy shit, I was pissed out of my gourd. Really got to watch my alcohol intake. Life as a noble was pretty much an open-bar wedding when it came to the tab. Which even if I got the bill was going to be paid off quick when the first shipment of Torrhen's Lake ice was sold in Oldtown in the spring. Artos has done the math right before he had collapsed face-first into a puddle of wine. The idle rich of Oldtown would pay through the nose for the novelty of iced desserts and cool rooms at the height of summer. Two or three cogs' worth would pay for the venture several times over. All we had to do was have an ice-house built in Oldtown to store the product. Competition could be taken care of with a little loan from my bestest buddy Ty-man to bribe the Tallharts-who were going to be polishing my schlong as their lord and savior-to grant me a monopoly on frozen gold from the most accessible source to the Westerlands.

Look, this was Westeros. The only time you wanted a level playing field was when you were setting up a lance charge against the helpless footmen of your enemy.

The room whirled around me. Whee. Oh yeah. Better send a runner over to fetch Ser Fox. It had gotten dark out. My drunken semi-stupor didn't drown out the Paranoia Song in my brain that I was a prime assassination target. A squire of three-and-ten wasn't enough back-up if my enemies decided to jump my ass in the dark. I gulped down the dregs of a mug of cold coffee for a wake-up call. Ooof. Yeah. Nasty. Gods, I was going to make so much money even if Artos decided to cheat my seven ways from however they named the days here. I could buy half the lands that Lord Marbrand had seized from the Reynes. Enough that I could establish myself as a land-holding lord in my own right instead of ruling Genna's lands. I could be...HOUSE FROYCE! Or House Reyce.

I stumbled in the now-hazy memory of the stairs leading to the spicer's store.

Must have gotten turned around.

Weird light.

Let me tell you something, the only thing that can sober you up faster than hearing the shink of a dagger being eased out of a sheathe behind you was seeing a glass candle in action. The eerie, vivid light filtering through the obsidian cast shadows around the room that I really, really did not want to stare at too closely. What I'd seen Esther's shadow morph into had inspired a few lively nightmares. My brain was seized with the cold terror of realizing that the curse had not been lifted, and that the girl with the long dark hair was climbing out of the TV set. I had wandered into a windowless chamber hung with exotic silken drapes and decorated with queer eastern tchotkes. It was a classic fortune-teller's lair right out of central casting. With a sinking gut not helped by incipent alcoholism, I turned to the spicer's wife sitting in an ornate chair-cum-throne carved out of midnight-black wood. A ruby on a pendant shone unnaturally in the glass candle's light. Esther purred in her lap.

"Maegi," I said. Fuck, fuckity, fuckstein... "If I have caused offense, I beg forgiveness for my rudeness. It wasn't intended."

"Respect from one so young," Maggy said. "Or were. Look behind you."

Like the blonde in the slasher flick, I woodenly turned about to see the two shadows I cast in the light of the candle.

"I saw you in my husband's morrows when I tasted his blood so long ago in Asshai," Maggy said, scritching my not-really-a-cat behind the ears. "You have not insulted me."

"Great. Because pissing off the woman with the blood magic powers is a bad career move." SHUT THE FUCK UP! This was no time for the Full Xander. "Um. If you were going to offer it, no. Really. No. Seeking a prophecy means putting yourself in its power. That`s the price of a foretelling, right? It locks you into that future."

"Your future is not mine, or the others-" Or was it Others? "-to influence. And it is not I who have awoken the candle."

What?

I peered into the heart of the candle.

A red lion roared defiance as flames consumed a tower.

"My gift to you, man of two shadows," Maggy said, sliding a scroll in a case of wood akin to her chair across the table. "For the future you have granted my children and grandchildren. For the melody you will weave in the song of ice and fire."

"I swear to any god who'll have my soul, if the next words out of your mouth are 'Azor Azhai', my ass is heading for the sunny beaches of Sothoryos."

"You are beholden to another, my lord." Maggy rested her hand on Esther's head.

Fangs bit in. And drank.

Fainting seemed a very good option.

The men who came to tell me of the razing of Tarbeck Hall by the now very former Lord Reyne assumed it was the wine.

Last edited: Mar 13, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#931

The dungeons of the Rock offer a variety of choices for the discerning prisoner. The high cells near the peak of the Rock are comfortable and airy for those imprisoned as honored hostages. The ones in the depths of the Lannister stronghold are the opposite. Future Jaime's description of oubliettes so tight that a man couldn't twist free as rats gnawed his toes was accurate. There were also chambers so devoid of light that the black cells of the Red Keep were solariums in comparison. There were prisons just below sea-level, where those within had to tread water for hours when the tide came in through the bars. Then there were the torture chambers.

My hangover was not helped by the miasma of shit, sweat, ozone and raw human fear permeating the air. Tywin didn't bat an eye at the stench. He watched impassively as some of the knowledge I'd given Maester Beldon was put to use. Specifically, the wonders of electricity. The masked torturer had shoved the traditional implements of Westerosi interrogation to the walls; the torches added an atmospheric chiascuro effect as their flickering light off the rack and the iron maiden and the other instruments of not-so-fun-times. To one side, bare-chested gaolers spun the crank of a crude dynamo of a large chunk of lodestone within a coil of copper wire. More copper wire ran to the nipples of the screaming man strapped to the wooden chair bolted to the flagstones. Another wire ran to a steel wand held in the leather gloved hand of the torturer.

I averted my eyes as Ser Reynard Reyne was given another galvanic bris.

This was not my idea of the steady progress of technology.

"Where are the hiding places you advised your brother to cache his house's coin?" Tywin asked.

"godsbegoodIknownotpleasestopIbendtheknee-"

"Again."

Reynard shrieked like a strangled kitten.

"Where would he have hidden your house's wealth?" Tywin asked.

"I DON'T KNOW!" Reynard screamed. "All I advised is that you would drown us out of our own holdfast should we rebel, as my lord Royce told me."

"Giving your brother time to prepare." Tywin shot me a death-glare. "No doubt you thought you were being helpful, were you not, goodbrother? Perhaps you should have told me of that plan before revealing it to our enemies."

"I didn't know that that lunatic would do it himself!" I protested.

"At least he saved us the trouble," Tywin said. "Now the Reynes have no doubt hidden themselves among my many rebellious lords, paid for by coin extorted from my own mines. I hope your brother enjoys his rebellion for the short time it lasts. We will scour the West for him. Again."

"I DID WHAT YOU ORDERED ME TO-"

The crank spun.

Reynard howled.

I stumbled out of the den of torment to puke up the last of the wine from last night. Not my problem, I babbled to myself. Reynard was guilty of plotting against the Lannisters. This was karma. Rohanne and Cerelle were safe. Tywin couldn't ruin his image of pardoning them for her mother's crimes by punishing them for their uncle's decision to go balls to the wall for revenge. Roger Reyne might have been a hot-headed bastard. But with the head's up I'd accidentally given him through my description of the Rains of Castamere to Reynard, his rage had cooled enough to come up with a proper plan. He had drowned Castamere himself in a gesture worthy of Nymeria burning her own boats. Before that, he had had the remaining gold in his vaults hidden in the many abandoned mines throughout the northern Westerlands. His family had likewise gone to ground. Then Roger had lead a force of picked men on a raid that had slaughtered the Marbrand garrison at Tarbeck Hall, then torched it and the village around it to the ground.

We were at war.

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Apr 9, 2016

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#961

Screw the sadistic little shithead's opinion of my intestinal fortitude.

I hardly felt the cold wind coming off the sea. I'd found the highest outpost I could that didn't need crampons and breathing gear to reach. It was as far as I could go from the Reynard Horror Show downstairs. Probably a mercy if I caught a cold and died a pathetic second death a month after popping into Emmon's head. All my dreams of steering Tywin Fucking Lannister to the light side of the force had died today. No ten-year-old boy personally attends a torture session. That's not a prodigy of a lord steeling himself to do the hard decisions. Screw this planet and its cultural mores. I wasn't buying that line. Tywin was a monster. I was his enabler even as I tried to rein in his worst tendencies. Godwin ho, folks, because I was pretty much Speer working for the guy in the Chaplin moustache.

Only I couldn't pull out now. I cared for Genna. Rohanne and Cerelle depended upon Tywin's regard for me to shield them from his wrath. In four decades, the Others would be marching down from their Arctic strongholds with an army of undead. It might be nice if one of the most competent minds in Westerosi history was there to fight them, instead of kicking off a war that would weaken the southern kingdoms. There was also the little fact that if I popped out for the metaphorical pack of cigarettes and never came back? I'd have Tywin Fucking Lannister and his entire family of fucking barbaric-if-friendly warlords with all the wealth of the Rock at their disposal to hunt my treacherous ass down. There was nowhere to go in this pestilential medieval dystopia that masqueraded as a fantasy world save maybe the Summer Isles or Braavos that would suit me. Wait, with Tywin pissed off as me, the Green Hell wouldn't be safe enough from his anger.

I was going to kill Roger Reyne. No, really. I'd had many a fantasy over beating the shit out of bullies at school or asshole co-workers. But I'd developed a decidedly homicidal urge towards that motherfucking idiot who had wasted all the little good I'd done here. That witless fuck had started a war right when the Lannisters least could afford political embarrassment. Quellon Greyjoy and his delegation was at Feastfires right now. He had been taking his time sailing down the coast of the Westerlands. Partly to demonstrate that Tywin's threats in his private letter hadn't panicked him, I guess. But also to gauge if we were really serious about confronting him on the sea. Quellon was eyeing us to see if it was a bluff. Roger Reyne's bitchfit meant that Tywin would have to Keyzer Soze every Reyne and ally he could catch. Not to mention that supposed flower of Westerlands chivalry had thrown hundreds of my smallfolk into the winter cold-and burned down the food stores, too-when he'd torched the village by Tarbeck Hall.

The anger burning in my gullet actually scared me, on some level.

That might help with what was coming.

I read the parchment again. It was signed by Tywin and the regency council.

It was Ser Reynard Reyne's death warrant, declaring his life forfeit as hostage for the rebellion of his house.

And it named me, as Genna's husband, as executioner to do justice.

Ser Reynard Reyne had drawn quite a crowd.

It seemed almost all of the Rock and Lannisport too had turned out to witness his death upon the frozen tourney grounds outside Casterly Rock. The City Watch and the red cloaks of the Rock's guards were posted to keep order among the crowds; a security contingent of pikemen and lancers were present off to one side in case the Reynes tried any rescue attempts. Doubtful, since the last raven from Ashmark had had them fleeing into the hills along the southern coast of Ironman's Bay. There wasn't enough time for them to double back and reach Ser Reynard in time before the inevitable. Still, the guards seemed more than a little nervous at even the faint prospect of Roger Reyne showing up for the festivities. Apparently the Rog-man was the fucking Terminator. The one survivor of the garrison left by Lord Marbrand had revealed that the eldest Reyne had carved through half of the troops like a two-legged Cuisinart.

And I was going to be point man for offing his little brother, on top of seeing me as responsible for whoring out his beloved sister.

Spiffy.

It would have been safer to do this as the regency council had wanted: me in his cell with a poleaxe, then mounting his head on a spike on Lannisport's walls without any ceremony. Screw that. I wasn't going to be party to turning this into some squalid affair. They wanted me to be blooded? Then this would be done in full view of everyone so that no-one could claim they were innocent of the decision. I stood before a thick post pounded into the earth-a pell-facing the regency council and my boss. They sat atop destriers in their best plate, guarded by a hundred knights and men-at-arms. Even Tytos was there. Though his face was more than a little green.

A murmur swept through the crowd as the condemned was lead out. The Lannisters had granted Ser Reynard one night to recover from riding the lightning in the dungeons. He walked with only a slight stumble from the electric burns on his soles with a septon from the Golden Sept walking ahead of him. The cloying scent of the holy man's censer was as he said the mourning prayers for the condemned threatened to bring up the coffee I'd drunk earlier; I'd skipped dinner and breakfast to avoid a shameful display of weakness. Reynard had a stunned look on his features as he knelt before the septon as the latter held up a crystal to bring the Seven's light one last time upon the condemned man. It was as if he couldn't believe that this was happening.

Neither could I.

No last words between us. There was nothing to say. If I tried to offer any comfort, I'd probably end up babbling like a baby. I concentrated on the rage towards Roger Reyne. I let it fuel the numbness that was all that was keeping me from running screaming from the field. Two red cloaks brought Reynard to the pell. Either last-minute bravery or paralyzing terror kept him still as they tightened the ropes around him. A maester approached with an ear trumpet. He opened the laces of the white linen doublet, placing the primitive stethescope on Reynard's bare chest. He marked the exact spot of the heart with a cloth target with the Lannister sigil woven into it pinned to the doublet. Another red cloak tied a black cloth as a blindfold over Reynard Reyne's eyes.

Deep breath. Do this. Get it over with.

"READY!" I called out, raising my sword.

Seven of the best marksmen from Casterly Rock's crossbow corps set foot into stirrup loops on their weapons.

"SPAN!"

Goat's foot levers pulled back on strings.

"NOCK!"

Seven broadhead hunting quarrels, representing the judgement of the Seven-in-One, were placed upon tillers.

"PRESENT!"

Steel glinted in the dawn light when the execution party raised their arbalests.

"AIM!"

I faced Ser Reynard.

When you condemn a man, you owe it to swing the blade yourself.

I didn't have the balls to do that. But I owed him the dignity of facing him at the moment of death.

Later on, Tywin told me he was proud that my sword didn't tremble at all.

I swept it down.

"LOOSE!"

The crossbows thrummed.

Last edited: Apr 9, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Apr 16, 2016

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#1,042

"When you take a man's life, you take away all he has and all he ever will be."

The Eastwood quote echoed around my mind as I watched the silent sisters untie what had once been a man. Not a man I liked much. Nor one I trusted much. Honestly, I had been expecting the sudden yet inevitable betrayal somewhere down the line. But I'd snarked with him. He had done his duty as my meat shield. I'd seen him doing his best to cheer up his nieces. Now he was just meat. There's a transformation that happens when the living passes over into the desert of black sand. Whatever animated them leaves at that moment. What remains is nothing like what was breathing a moment ago. I couldn't feel anything except the cold of the morning air when I looked at the late Ser Reynard Reyne.

The crossbow men had at least done their work well. One bolt had been a flyer that had struck a shoulder. The rest were in a neat cluster within the cloth target. Two of them helped the silent sisters lay him down on the cart that would bear him to the catacombs beneath the Golden Sept. They had to leave the bolts buried in him. At least I'd thought to have a curved iron plate secured on the pell from pinning him to the wood like a butterfly. Clad in mourning black, Rohanne and Cerelle flanked the mortuary cart as Ser Reynard's courser pulled it off the tourney grounds. It and his arms and armor had been given to the Faith as a donation to cover his corpse's preparation and his bones' transport to White Harbour.

The Lannisters and the regents watched the corpse drawn off the field of execution with a dignity that I knew they didn't feel he had deserved. I had no doubt that if Tywin had had his way, Reynard's head would have spent a few weeks spiked on the walls before become the first component of his skull throne. Screw that. Reynard had died a hostage, not as a convicted traitor. I'd insisted very very loudly that he had the dignity of a proper burial. Not what I'd suggested for what was going to happen to the other Reynes. Which involved being dragged behind a horse through a shit-strewn street, strapped to a hurdle, gelded and disemboweled alive, their guts and nuts burned before them, and then hanged until dead. Spikes, heads, walls, and the four quarters of their bodies sent to the corners of the Westerlands would be their funeral arrangements. Because I was fucking done treating my new life like a fix-it fic.

I think I'd actually shocked Tywin with my innovative approach to justice.

I mounted my palfrey-a wedding gift-like an automaton. Egon Clegane rode a garron beside me as we left the tourney grounds. I saw the crowds whispering and looking at me a little oddly as I passed. They'd come for the expected beheading, not my medieval take on a firing squad. I wasn't sure if they were impressed or horrifed. Honestly, I was in the zero-fucks stage of the caring cycle at this point. A cough alerted me to yet another screw-up when it came to my courtesies. I wheeled around my mount to raise my sword towards Tywin. Mini-Temujin nodded once in dismissal. My horse whinnied when I might have used my spurs a little too hard to kick it into a trot.

South of Lannisport was a headland that arched around to form a natural breaker against the Sunset Sea. It ended in a jumble of boulders that stretched down into some wicked shoal water several yards from their base. A squat stone watchtower rose from the most solid of the sea-stacks. A fire beacon was lit each evening to warn off ships from approaching the hazard. I and my guard had the place to myself this early. Egon worked with whetstone on his blade while I hunkered down with a wineskin of cheap, tannin-laced Riverlands wine I'd bought from a winesink before dawn. The panther piss did most of the flagellation I thought I'd earned.

"May I join you, my lord?" Denys Marbrand asked, picking his way out to the rocks.

"Pick a rock, any rock." I swigged some more panther piss. Oh yeah, this time around I was heading for alcoholism. "So, I made my bones today. Am I now in the club for real? Hard enough to be the hard man making the hard decisions?"

"I was seven when my father had me with him to hang poachers," Denys said. "As a lord yourself, you had to be blooded else you might prove hesitant to do your duty. Odd way to go about it. My grandson liked it well enough."

"I should provide him with the specs for a guillotine." I laughed. Who knew that I'd need that fork in the tech tree. "A beheading engine. I figure we're going to be doing a brisk business."

"You will, certainly." Denys actually seemed chagrined. "Tywin was impressed with your grasp of ceremony today. He has granted you the title of Master of Justice, along with title to the remaining lands of the Reynes as your fief."

Oh.

Spiffy.

I was now Lord-High Executioner as well as Lord of Castamere.

"I'm going to be the poor bastard who has to kill the hostages he's taken." I drained half the wineskin in a single pull. "I might have to kill children. I might have to kill Rohanne and Cerelle's aunts and cousins when you people track them down."

"No. For the womenfolk, Tywin's offered clemency," Denys said. "The married ones to the Faith. The maidens without husbands to marry the sons of the smallfolk that the Reynes burned out.'

"Holy shit," I said. "That's...I'm still getting used to this, but isn't that an incredible humiliation? I didn't think that was even conceivable by your world's standards."

"Tywin declared Ser Reynard the last true lord of his family." Denys did seem more than a little disturbed. "He proclaimed that breeding with the peasantry was all the maiden Reynes were due. That their heirs could show leal service as knights if they earned such honor."

"That isn't a sharp lesson. It's being clawed in the face by a rabid shadowcat."

"That it is." Denys nodded. "You did well, Emmon."

"I did something." I sighed. "I won't be very good company for a while. I do need to talk to you about buying some of your new lands to link my wife's fief with mine."

"Of course, Emmon."

I decided to put off negotiations until after I was pissed out of my gourd. The wineskin was down three-quarters before I finally put it aside. I lay down beneath a couple of blankets against the watchtower wall to let the panther piss wear off. Gulls wheeled above me as I pondered how far I'd come. This was the point of being an SI'ed noble in Westeros, right? Uplifting the lowly medieval scum, getting sweet loot, playing the game of thrones. Only I had zero idea how to implement my changes. My new riches came with the price tag that I had to become the personal confidant of Tywin Fucking Lannister. Along with being the man in charge of offing the poor bastards who ended up receiving his version of justice. Joy. I didn't even want the damned power. Oh, and I was becoming a souse. Cersei and Jaime would think I was an Unca Falstaff, unless my liver silted up like the Mississippi by the time they popped out of Joanna's womb. Unless butterflies had already flapped that away.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

I'm supposed to be making things better, aren't I?

Then an idea from a fic I'd written came to me.

Egon had to lead my palfrey by the reins-HA!-as we headed back to town. I was non-compost mentis. Uh, got that wrong. I sagged in the saddle as we rode towards the Golden Sept. It was a huge seven-sided monstrosity not far from the Greens that was situated in a seven-sided plaza. In the sunlight, the stones quarried from the Rock shone with the flecks of gold within them. Slim minaret-style towers at each corner of the septagon were capped by bronze domes. A great bronze dome gleamed like...well, gold over the main part of the structure. Street merchants and hawkers were already out importuning the pilgrims who had journeyed from all over the West and the nearer parts of the Reach and Riverlands; the Golden Sept was the center of the Faith to the Northmarch and the most of the western parts of the Tully's province.

Septs were an interesting contrast to the synagogues and churches I knew from back home. The Golden Sept had seven entrances on each of the corner buttreses. They lead into a great central space beneath the dome capping the sept. It was a contemplative space rather than the nave leading to the altar or bima of the Abrahamic shrines I was familiar with. Stained-glass windows lent much light rather than the gloom I associated with Middle Ages structures like Notre Dame. By each of the walls were great statues carved from marble, all gilded and picked out in precious gems, of the Seven in One: Father paired to Mother, Maiden to Warrior, Smith to Crone. In the last corner facing the Sunset Sea was the altar of the Stranger. I drunkenly lit a votive candle to honour my new symbolic boss. I didn't see Rohanne and Cerelle about. Maybe they had gone back to my manse to mourn privately in the chapel sept there.

I sat down after asking a nearby septon to bring word to the main honcho. Septon Tymon descended from his offices in the Father's Tower a few minutes later. He was dressed in sumptuous robes as would be expected of the man who held high office in the Lannister lands. Atop his head was a golden circlet with slim crystals that scattered rainbows from the sunlight and candles. He was an older man of vigorous build with the platinum-blonde hair and violet eyes of a Valyrian. Word was that he had been the son of one of Aegon the Unworthy's lesser legitimized bastards. His reputation from Emmon's memories was being a genial manager skilled at courting the touchy and status-obsessed elite of the West. No tendency to visit the altar boys as far as he knew. I knew. Urgh.

"My lord, how may I help you?"

"He who saves one life, saves the world entire."

House words of the Hospitaller-Order, given after the Gift of Castamere by Lord Emmon Royce.

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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The executioner's party escorted the prisoner to the instrument of his doom. He had been strapped face down on a plank with the black hood of the condemned drawn snug around his throat with leather cord. There was a vulnerable expanse between the hood's hem and the funeral shroud tightly wound about him to immobilize him further. Carefully choreographed, the execution party fitted the edges of the plank into guiding slots. The prisoner was positioned just so that the head-stock could be pegged into place in the space of a couple of seconds. Clamps were fitted at the same time. The head of the party nodded to the Master of Justice in his iron mask forged in the visage of the Stranger.

The sword swept down. A lever was pulled. Sears released the castle-forged, angled blade weighted with lead. It fell with terrible finality along iron-lined tracks greased with tallow. Steel leaf springs in the base absorbed the blow as the blade sheered through the neck of the condemned. Basins and gutters caught the spurting blood without the need for sawdust strewn on the execution ground. The dark red paint on the frame concealed any that spattered on the machine itself. The shrouded grey figures of the silent sisters released the condemned's corpse and head from its bindings. The mortuary cart had already been drawn up behind a wooden screen to let them bring their latest charge to the boiling and beetling chambers.

Tywin smiled at the model guillotine and the array of wooden dolls I'd had made to demonstrate the process.

Suck it, Roose, you'rve got nothing on Tywin for sheer creepiness.

"We can get the entire ritual down to about half-a-minute from strap down to the chop," I said. "Quick, efficient, no mistakes if the headsman has an off-day. We could go through the Reynes in one go in under an hour if you wanted to just get it over with."

"I've decided that most of Ser Roger's kin will die the common deaths of bandits," Tywin said. "Hanging from the nearest tree is all that is due to them. Roger of course will die by drawing, hanging, and quartering. Even if he is killed in the field, I'll have him suffer that on the tourney grounds before we give him to the silent sisters."

"They say you should pay your executioner a stag for a clean kill," I said. "At this rate, we should offer the Reynes a discount. Sort of a family rate. Two for one."

You might say I have a gallows sense of humour, these days.

"As always, you exceed my expectations," Tywin said. He grew somber. "Goodbrother, I did not grant this position to you as a slight."

"I know. It was to blood me," I replied. "Couldn't have a girly man with a weak stomach as your advisor, could you?"

"Many think Ser Reynard's death was passing strange," Tywin said. "They also say you granted dignity without flinching from your duty. I was never so proud of you when you didn't faint."

"Every household needs its butcher," I said, staring into his gold-flecked green eyes. "My fame's already spreading. This morning I saw some street urchins playing 'firing squad'."

"You're not my butcher." Tywin's gaze back was steady. "You are not a hunting dog or any such thing. I can trust you to do what needs be done. And when we have established justice and order, we will bring into this world the wonders you showed me that night at Megga's house."

"Just as long as you keep yourself under control," I said. "What you did to Reynard wasn't being the hard man. You enjoyed it. That's a weakness in you. Watch it. Remember how Maegor the Cruel and Aerion Brightflame ended up."

"I will take your advice for what it is worth." Tywin slid a parchment across the table between us. "The charter for the Hospitallers and the grant of half the lands of Castamere, their incomes not to be taxed, for their establishment and support."

"Thanks." I blew out a breath I didn't think I'd been holding. "I was worried you'd be pissed that I'd given up that much of the fief you'd granted me."

"It's overly generous, but within your rights as lord to donate lands to the Faith," Tywin said. "It is not as if you gave them all your lands. That would have been madness."

Ahahahaha.

Let's just say I needed to slip Septon Tymon some extra dragons in the contribution jar for telling me to sleep off my drunk before I finalized that decision.

"Our admiral's fleet tells me that Quellon's party will arrive early on the morrow," Tywin said. "I wish you to be by our side to greet him."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Tywin," I said. "Besides, it'll give me a chance to put in an order for iron stakes from the Lordsport smiths."

The Little Lion's teeth flashed.

...creepy.

Apr 23, 2016

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#1,239

The cup rattled.

I slammed it upside down.

Six coppers lay on the tabletop-two showing the dragon sigil of the Targaryens, four showing the seven pointed star of the Faith.

"The cast of Fate has gone against you," I intoned in my most ominous tones. "Your attempt to leaps across the chasm is foiled by a clumsy slip where you have fallen several feet. You have received a mild blow, twisting your ankle, trapped now on a precarious ledge as the ice spider climbs down for its next meal."

"I, um, I try to scramble away from it!" Cerelle said.

"Your injured ankle compels you to collapse down on the ledge." I raised a silver stag. "Can you buy off your fate?"

"Oh no, I can't!" Cerelle cried dramatically, out of fate tokens for now. "Help, help!"

"DEATH TO ALL SPIDERS!" Genna yelled. "I draw my bow and ready to put an arrow through its eye. I call upon my skills as Finest Archeress In The West to strike it down."

"Don't worry, Cerelle, I'll sweep you away while she looses arrows," Rohanne added. "I throw my rope and grapnel to swoop down to rescue her!"

Coins rattled in the cup as I prepared to resolve Genna and Rohanne's rescue attempt. I added two successes to Genna's Fair result on the cast, from invoking one of her aspects, to have her obsidian-tipped arrow inflict a severe blow on the monster arachnid. Rohanne got a natural Great result and paid a fate token to compel the spider's blow to distract as she pulled off a Luke-sweeping-Leia across the chasm in the Death Star. I noted down the new aspects affecting each character on the chalk slate that served as a GM sheet in a medieval setting. The girls sitting around the table in my solar excitedly chattered about their plans to escape the ice spider within the dread fortress of the Night King deep within the Land of Always Winter.

The first playtest of Monsters and Maidens was going much better than I expected. It was an adaptation of the FATE CORE system I could remember perfectly. My feline space bat had an odd sense of humour. An obscure pen-and-paper RPG I could recall. A detailed wikipedia article on gunpowder? No, hard mode for you. I had had to adapt things a bit to fit into the high medieval setting. Character sheets were right out given that I had yet to invent the pencil; parchment and paper were far too expensive to be used for such a disposable purpose. Skills were represented by clay blocks with painted symbols arranged on a draughts board for each girl to represent the ranks on the skill level ladder. Aspects and other details were noted down on my GM's chalk slate. Dice were incredibly vulgar, so I had to substitute six coins for the usual FUDGE dice. I left out stuff like the stunt system to pare down what they needed to learn. Silver coins acted as fate point tokens.

I had needed something to deal with the trauma of the execution and the Tarbeck sisters' grief. Actually, it had been Genna who had suggested we try the game I had been puttering around with. It turns out that Westerosi girls very quickly grasped the concept of a roleplaying game. Storytelling circles were a popular past-time among highborn maidens. It helped stave off the boredom when the heady embroidery, gossip, and flower arranging failed to enthrall. It had taken them a little while to understand the entire concept that they had narrative agency. But once they did? They dove right into the scenario adventure of three girls drawn into the perils of the Night King's palace after being stranded by a shipwreck north of the Wall. It helped that FATE had narrative causality incorporated into its core mechanics. Mind you, there were some quirks in the mechanics that needed ironing out. But I resolved with the age old GM standy of Ruling For Cool instead of rules lawyering. FATE's tendency to encourage the players to contribute to the ongoing roleplay eased the pressure of my inexpert GM skills.

Probably going to hell for turning them into neckbeards.

Whatever. The girls needed to have some sense that they had control over their futures.

I could have used some reassurance on that point, myself.

I wrapped up the night's session with a cliff hanger drawn from Cold Days. My three victims-uh, players gasped in fear and excitement when I revealed the wall they had fetched up against was actually the base of the Night King's throne. Oh, and he had become a giant. Two fate tokens each ensured they would accept the story twist. Rohanne and Cerelle eagerly discussed what they would do the next gaming night while Megga herded them back to their rooms. Genna helped me clean up before heading back to my bedchambers for the night. Ugh. I was still getting used to having to do that occasionally. Eventually we would have to consumate this marriage. I intended to do that privately when she was well north of flowering age, and not at the next wedding anniversary where some drunk would shout for a delayed bedding. Not that I couldn't delay the awkward a little. Kissing her on the cheek, I gathered my starwatching stuff for a couple of hours studying the heavens. Genna often joined me. She was a little too tired because, um, I might have allowed her some watered wine to encourage her to doze off.

Look, I can be an asshole. I admit it.

The full moon granted me lots of natural light when I stepped out, bundled up in furs, onto the balcony carved into the face of the rock in front of my rooms. It was bright enough that I could sneak out the scroll case where I had hidden it in the far-seer's chest. The damned thing had been bugging me ever since the spicer's wife had slipped it to me. The gods knew I didn't want Genna to come across it by accident. It was disguised as a star chart which hopefully she would have no interest in. The moonlight didn't reveal any mysterious runes. Instead, the scroll was written in High Valyrian with a bewildering array of diagrams and charts which reminded me of the bastard fusion of a kabbalistic diagram and a string theorist's attempt to convey whatever the fuck a brane was. Well. Lovely. I sucked at languages. It had taken me decades to become understandable in French, living in Quebec where I was surrounded by it. My few tries at Hebrew instruction had foundered completely in spite of years of religious instruction and a two-month study stay in Israel. Emmon's faded memories were no help.

I shuddered at one picture of what had to be a shadow-assassin emerging from smoke.

"Evening, lad. Fine night for star-watching."

A cloaked figure emerged from the shadows. Within its cowl, a nose like the prow of a longship could be seen.

I grabbed the dagger I kept on my belt even within my own home.

"No, my little lord, no need for that." A hand weathered from years of salt and sun proferred a slice of bread and bag of salt. "Took these from the kitchens as I passed by."

"Quellon Greyjoy, I assume?"

"Oh yes, my lord. Thought we should have a chat quiet-like."

...yeah, my luck roll had botched super-hard tonight.

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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My right hand drifted towards the pommel of my dagger.

Somehow, Quellon Greyjoy had snuck into my manse. That incredibly disturbing thought also gave me the perfect cover to kill him. I had always been critical of people suggesting in SI tales that "killing Hitler as a child" was an option for dealing with the various problematic characters. But let's just say I had gotten more than a little desensitized to the taking of human life of late. Quellon's only child right now was ten-year old Balon. None of his younger brothers had been conceived yet. Specifically, the vile little sperm that would become the Crow's Eye wouldn't even be swimming in the man's testes for a good decade. I didn't even had to go after him. Just scream that an assassin was here. Ser Jason had granted me several guards from the ranks of the red cloaks to replace the cover provided by Ser Reynard. Which apparently meant nothing to a gods-damned Dagon worshipping Viking who apparently dual-classed as a ninja. They'd still come running if I made a fuss. If there was a chance I could delay Quellon one critical second for the guards to take him out, it might save hundreds of Euron's victims in the future.

Sure, he was the reasonable ironborn leader who wanted to reform them. So what? All his efforts to tear them free from the rut of the Old Way had been tossed aside like garbage by Balon and his other children. There was more than a little evidence that the iron islanders couldn`t be reformed by anything less than cultural genocide and a brutal occupation. There was just too much of the lost-causer mentality in their society. So screw them. Kill Quellon, let the ironborn goad Tywin into making good on his threats, and sit back as the assholes suffered the karma generated by millennia of fuckery. Who would miss them? The rest of the Seven Kingdoms would give the Westerlands a standing ovation for transforming the Iron Islands into a mass grave. I'd already decided I was not in a fix-fic.

My right hand left the sheathed blade to take the bread and salt from his hand.

I was still pissed off enough to pour an entire salt-shaker's worth onto the bread before handing it back to him.

Quellon grunted. Then he promptly ate the Sodium Death Bread with relish. The showy prick even smacked his lips. Hmmmmf. I should have expected that. He did come from a culture whose priests drank salt water like it was Corona. From the shadows he dragged over a stool that he must have taken while he was sneaking around my supposedly-secure home. That implied he had been waiting outside here while I had been GMing that game session. There may have been some pucker factor at that thought. Like, coal-into-diamonds intense. I was suddenly glad I'd chosen the paragon route. Out of the shadows, Quellon was a big man who had to be six and a half feet tall. Beneath his salt-stained common sailor's clothing was a physique honed by nearly forty years of hard life as a sailor and warrior. He would have been on me in a nanosecond if I'd posed any threat. Genna was just a few yards away in the bedroom. Gods. If he had to hurt her to cover her escape-

"Now I'm your honored guest, and no threat to you and yours," Quellon said, as if my thoughts were being printed across my forehead. "All friendly and quiet."

"How did you get in here?" I demanded.

"Lad, I climbed to the top of this Rock when I was three-and-ten on a dare," Quellon replied. "Pissed on the beacon fire at the summit. The lion's men never had a hint I was there. Getting up here was easy as strolling across a deck in a calm sea."

"So what brings the Lord Reaper of Pyke for a midnight social call?" I couldn't help drying clammy palms on my breeches. "Tywin's the lord of the West. I'm just his flunky with a big mouth."

"Oh, you're more than that." Quellon smirked. "Any truth that you're fucking the good lady Jeyne on the side while ruling from behind the Lion's Throne?"

"What?' I blinked. "Seriously. People are actually thinking that?"

"Are you?"

"Trust me, I am not her type," I said. "And the only strings connecting me to Tywin are the one's he'd strangle me with if I tried to play evil vizier. By the way, those scumfuck subjects of yours paying the iron price on the city walls were his idea."

"That's the problem of being the lord of my people." Quellon sighed. "A headstrong bunch, the lot of them. Like herding cats in heat. It didn't help that Tytos paraded his weakness like a whore prancing naked through a harbor winesink."

"Blame the victim. Classy," I said.

"What I was to do, to tell my captains nay when there were riches so close at hand again?" Quellon shrugged dramatically.

"Well, it must help you maintain order now that we're cracking down," I said.

"Aye." Quellon's dark eyes glinted in the moonlight. "Having Farman as your lord-admiral, that's ticklish for us. As were those convoys of yours. And those mirror-signals they say are another gift."

"Yeah, it's going to be cool," I said. "We're creating a unified network using the watchtowers, patrol ships, and inland observations posts up in the mountains where we can. All that information feeding into a permanent staff who can chart the movements of ships in real time."

Quellon scowled.

"The next time you shitstains try anything, you'll be roaches on a plate," I snarled. "We'll be able to see patterns. Predict fleet movements. Vector both fleet assets and troops inland under a unified command through the Westerguard. Your little reaving act is dead. And we'll make sure that if it tries to rise harder and stronger, we'll wrap the Old Way in ten tons of anchor chain and drop it into the deeps."

"How much of that letter was yours?"

"It was a team effort between Tywin, Lord Farman, and myself." I grinned. "We had fun. Although we had to cut out the more outrageous threats. Like paying every septon in the south to preach a crusade against the demon worshippers who have stolen pure southron maidens to induct them into their cult. So this little intimidation act gets you zero respect from me."

"Yet you granted me bread and salt." Quellon's easy words were belied by the sweat dappling his brow in spite of the cold. "Your boy-lord can't afford a war between me and mine, not with the red lions growling outside his gates."

"We could skull-fuck those bandits while putting every single male of the Iron Islands to the impalement pike," I said. "By the way, are you taking orders? We'll need...hey, how many adult males are there? Never mind, I'll ask Maester Beldon to check it."

Quellon's fingers drummed a tattoo on his thigh.

I swallowed to quench the desert sands in my throat.

"I can't order the women returned," Quellon said. "There'll have to be ransom."

"'Not one copper for tribute'," I said.

"Oh, the cub-lord won't have to pay a groat." Quellon chucked. "Talk to Septon Tymon-fascinating idea, those hospitallers of yours, I'll see what I can do to have them come to my lands. The Faith oft pays to ransom slaves from the Seven Kingdoms when they fall into chains across the narrow sea."

Fuck. He had been close enough to eavesdrop on me in the Golden Sept.

"And a little sugar for your liege lord." Quellon passed me a parchment. "The names of the men who took the girls for salt wives, the ships they sail on, and all that. All I ask is no arrests. Accidents, tavern fights, and such. And you never saw me here."

Quellon leapt up to the parapet overlooking the cliff that dropped down to the sea.

"You never had a chance of summoning the guards, Royce." He saluted. "But you can take heart that this was the day you almost caught Quellon Greyjoy."

The next second he was gone over the edge.

When the feeling returned to my legs, I peered carefully over the edge. No sign of him. But there hadn't been a splash.

Okay.

That? That was style.

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Apr 30, 2016

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So. Apparently we needed ninjas.

No problem. Varys in canon had pointed the way to creating a spy and assassin network. Orphans could be taken off the streets into a comfortable school generously supported by the Lannisters. Among the skills taught would be mummery, sleight of hand, tumbling, and other skills that could be explained as preparing them for a life in the exciting world of the theatre. Literacy? They had to be able to read scripts. Mnemonics? Memorizing lines. The weapons and hand to hand training? Hey, the crowds always loved fight scenes. The ones who showed promise would be given additional, secret instruction in less-than-theatrical techniques like climbing sheer walls and moving silently. It'd be awesome. I'd be the jonin of the Lions of the Night.

Unfortunately, that would take a few years. I needed to assure Tywin that certain people could be made dead right now. I fidgeted as Artos Stone read Quellon's little list by the fire-light of the hearth. There was none of the jolly, ingratiating charm I'd seen during our dinner a couple of nights ago. Shit. I really wished we hadn't had Reynard executed. This sort of work was right up his alley. Unfortunately, my best candidate for spy master was now being boiled into skeletal remains in the crypts of the silent sisters in the Golden Sept's undercroft. Artos Stone was the only man I was even vaguely familiar with who might have the contacts to pull this off. I mean, he had been to the east. He must have rubbed shoulders with some less-than-savory people. Kind of like my late father the labour lawyer knew by reputation some mobsters who had their fingers in the unions.

Fuck.

We needed ninjas.

"I 'spose you thought you needed a bastard for nasty work like this," Artos said.

"We need to lure these ironborn out," I replied. "Hiring them on as ship's guards, contracting them for trade, whatever. It has to be someone without too close ties to the Lannisters. Someone whose wife happens to be very good with an alchemist's laboratory."

"My wife's never brewed poisons," Artos said forcefully. "Oh, she's been asked a time or three. But that's dark work, a stain that'd have the watch on us."

"I can't give you an official request," I said. "This has to be secret."

"Could be I know men and a few women who have the talents you need," Artos said slowly. "They'll expect gold. Favors too, for some. Some o' these men are lord's sons. Powerful enemies to make."

"You'll have my protection from any repercussions," I said. "How does 'Lord Artos Spicer, keyholder in the Golden Bank' sound?"

"Now there's honey to balm the sting. Thought I wouldn't think them in the Rock would upjump me and mine past knighthood.'

"Tywin owes me," I said. "Your house will be sworn to mine, holding the fief we agreed upon."

Artos worked his jaw.

"It's a shit job I'm handing you," I admitted.

"Might be my dagger's found a man's kidneys in an alley, once or twice," Artos said. He nodded, once. "'T'will be done. Good night to you, my lord."

I dried my hands on my breeches as Megga escorted my early morning visitor out of the manse.

I opened the scroll, along with the dictionary of High Valyrian I had found in my library.

I settled down to translate, painfully slowly, the foreign characters of Maggy the Frog's gift.

There had to be a sterility curse in here...

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Say whatever else you will about the ironborn, they knew their business when it came to seamanship.

Thirty longships sculled across the waters of Lannisport Harbour with the discipline of the Royal Navy during a fleet review before Queen Liz. Compared to the Westerlands war galleys flanking them, they were dinky toys that in comparison seemed to be more suited for a child to putter around with in the bath. They were shallow-draft ships that had a quarter of the rowing benches of the Lannister fleet's dromonds; their simple square-rigged sail on its single mast made them seem like oversized dories than serious ships. But the ironborn manning them could navigate them from the rocky shores of the Iron Islands all the way to Asshai if they wished. In littoral zones like the Stepstones, a longship fleet could swarm an unwary convoy with a discipline that could impress even an unborn Stannis Baratheon. The insanity of their religion that made drowning an honorable death also made the ironborn fearless enough to wear heavy armor that any sane sailor wouldn't dare wear at sea.

The cloaked Viking rogue I had met at moonlight last night was gone. Standing at the prow of his flagship, a great longboat of fifty oars, was the Lord Reaper of Pyke clad in the best plate-and-mail that the skilled smiths of Lordsport could turn out. Upon his breastplate was the kraken arms of his house picked out in jet and gold that had no doubt been pried from the dead fingers of his enemies. Tucked beneath one arm was a steel helm with a Cthulhu-lesque visor of writhing tentacles. One sabaton rested upon an iron figurehead of a kraken with its tentacles coiled about ships of all types; the figurehead doubled as a reinforced spur that could break a galley's oars in a fleet action. Quellon didn't budge an inch when his crew backstroked before they hit the dock.

Quellon didn't bother to wait for his ship to dock. He leapt the distance between the tip of the prow and the dock-still in over sixty pounds of metal-to land with a clash on the very end of the pier. He damn well strolled along the pier alone towards the one hundred red-cloaked guardsman who were awaiting a visit from the traditional enemies of the Westerlands. The man didn't seem to notice the rotting corpses on iron spikes that had been taken down from the walls to flank each side of the pier. Hell. He was whistling the Westerosi equivalent of "What Shall We Do With a Drunken Sailor" as he approached the Lannisters mounted in full plate and barded horses on the shore proper. It was a testament to Tywin's composure that he stayed stock-still as a man who could crush him like a bug even unhorsed came within sword-swinging distance. I'd have panicked the cocky fucker was going to punch out my steed like Mongo.

"My lord o' Lannister, I've heard your plight," Quellon Greyjoy said. "Pirates from the Stepstones coming to carry off your gold and maidens. Why, I couldn't help feel sorrow at your troubles. The Lord of the Iron Isles has come to your side to drive off those scum who would despoil your shores."

"Ever hear the word 'chutzpah'?" I muttered side mouthed to Lord Farman. The admiral was strangling back a scream of outrage that unchecked would have rivaled an air-raid siren. "Old First Man word. It's the gall that lets a man throw himself on the king's mercy after kinslaying his parents on the grounds of being an orphan."

"He-he's actually claiming he is coming to our rescue-"

Ser Jason clamped a gauntlet on the reins of Farman's courser to avert a major diplomatic incident.

"We of the West thank you for your...generosity," Tywin said. "We have always heard the men of the Iron Islands are a prideful people. That you submit to serve under the command of our lord-admiral is a great gesture of peace."

Quellon tipped his head in salute to the riposte.

"No one knows better than use the skill o' the Fair Isle sailors," Quellon said. "Why, after a moon's turn I'm sure they'll be as good as my men."

"They will have ample time to practice together," Tywin replied. "Mixed crews, to build trust between us?"

"Aye. A fleet needs to row as one," Quellon said easily.

"Welcome to the West." Tywin gestured to a red cloak, bearing a golden platter of meat and a silver goblet of mead.

"Glad to arrive on such friendly shores," Quellon replied. "And I've even brought my own son to foster, as we agreed, to squire with your fine ser of an uncle."

My guts clenched as a young boy leapt as easily from the prow of the longship to the pier. He might have been only ten years old. He was still a good head taller than Tywin was now. His black hair was done up in a queue as compared to Quellon's, which was worn loose. A simple hemp cord bound it up near his scalp. His features were more drawn than his father's. More severe. Dark eyes took in the riches of the Lannister greeting party as if he meant to pay the iron price for every last bit of finery. He wore a brigandine of leather with steel plates beneath embroidered with the arms of the Greyjoy clan. The blade sheathed at his hip was child-sized...but no doubt as sharp and serviceable as that of any grown man. He met Tywin's stare without shrinking.

Balon Greyjoy.

Holy shit, I couldn't even calculate the butterflies that were flapping around right now. My impression of Balon Greyjoy was that the only time he had been in the greenlands as a kid was on training cruises while apprenticing on one of his father's longships. Otherwise he had stayed in the Iron Islands. That made sense from Quellon's point of view. For ten years, Balon had been his sole heir after the three sons of his first wife had died one after the other. Euron and Victarion wouldn`t be born for a good decade in the future. He had no spares. To send his only son into the court of a power who had every reason to want him dead for his people`s reaving was a ballsy move indeed. What it might mean for Balon himself to foster for years in the greenlands I couldn`t predict.

I glanced at Balon and Tywin again.

Wait, I could predict something with crystal clear clarity.

Trouble. And lots of it.

Last edited: May 1, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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"And that, Tywin, is a master at work," I said. "Quellon Greyjoy just piloted through the nastiest bit of shoal water to land feet dry and smiling."

"He even made it seem as if he was doing us a service out of charity," Tywin said. "As if we were maidens being saved by true knights!"

"Stop focusing on your wounded pride," I snapped. "Yes, he played you. He probably even sold this expedition to his captains as you paying Quellon off under the table. Who cares? This is a political and strategic win."

"Lord Emmon gives good counsel," Denys Marbrand said. "For all the Greyjoy made mock, he has placed his best captains and heir as hostages. Any reavers who persist will be in rebellion against Pyke. If we don't concede him the few cuts he has landed upon us, he would be forced to battle to stay on the Seastone Chair."

"We will have enough trouble hunting down the Reynes and other rebels who might spring up," Ser Jason said. "I have faith in our lord-admiral's skill. But it's poor strategy to force yourself to fight on two fronts at once."

"My lord admiral, will the ironborn serve loyally with our fleet?" Tywin asked.

"They're the Kraken's picked captains," Rodrik Farman said. "The squid is right. Best sailors this side of the Seven Kingdoms. They won't betray us as long as the Greyjoy stays true to his oaths."

"I will not grant amnesty to these men who reaved us," Tywin insisted. "I will not seek them to stand trial for their crimes. I will ban them from the shores on the West. Let them take the Faith's ransom and choke upon it."

"And who knows," I said casually. "Maybe they'll have a run of bad luck. The gods have a way of evening the score."

Everyone at the table in Tywin's solar shared a less-than-pleasant smirk at that.

You know, as vile as politics here can be, there's a tiny part of me that thought "gods-damned, it's great to be a gangster."

"Do I show him the sweet after letting him taste the sour?" I asked, tapping the leather satchel by my side.

"You may." Tywin inclined his head. "Let's astonish the crafty kraken for once."

I blew out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding when the regency council was dismissed. This was it. This was the big moment. Lots of people commented on SI fics back home that uplifting was an over-used trope. Only, let's face it, everyone wants to play Crosstime Engineer if they can. Unless you have no ambition at all, there's a huge ego-stroke in making such a big project as the Seagard-to-Twins Canal a reality. Maybe it wouldn't mean anything against the eventual ice-zombie apocalypse. Or maybe it would bring deep economic and political ties between the mainland and the troublesome shits north of us. Troublesome shits who had the sea-lift capacity to convey armies to the North in a hurry should anything come crawling over the Wall. It might be enough to ensure that even if Balon pulled his lost-cause idiocy, there would be enough ironborn invested in trade over reaving to resist a return to the Old Way.

Let's just say I wasn't exactly convinced that Balon's fostering would actually redeem his canon fuckwittery.

Hope for the best, expect the worst.

The Iron Islands embassy had been esconced in a fort perched on the seaward side of the Rock. Quellon probably appreciated the irony that its purpose was to keep watch for ironborn attack. Typical of the scale of the Rock, this secondary fortress was the size of a small lord's holdfast. It was far enough away from the main sections of Casterly Rock that I had to commandeer a dramway cart. It turns out that my big revelation of horse-drawn railways wasn't quite the stunning advance that I thought it was. Dramways had been operating in the Rock for centuries. They were primitive railways of wooden-wheeled carts drawn by pit ponies-a horse bred to fit in Westerlands mines-along grooves cut into the stone floor. The dramways in the castle parts of the Rock ran through their own dedicated tunnel network. It was weirdly like being on the Metro, only with a slight whiff of horse apple.

Quellon's arnsmen conducted me to the solar of what would have been the fortress captain's apartments politely enough. A pretty girl my own age with Dornish colouring and hair silently served me a cup of Arbor gold. I clenched my teeth. Probably not a saltwife. Quellon was said not to indulge in the practise. But I bet that her mother had been one. The girl was very likely a thrall unless she had been given the baptism of salt and stone and steel. That was how the Iron Islands maintained a thrall population when supposedly their children would be born free; their freedom was contingent on them being given the Drowned God's blessing. The loophole was that said blessing had to come from a drowned man with the permission of the thrall's master. Oh, by unwritten law the master was honour-bound to grant that permission. Guess how often it was done?

Unless I decided to start a diplomatic fight, I couldn't do a damned thing about the girl's status. Technically this was Iron Islands territory for the length of the embassy's stay.

I sipped my wine as I waited for Quellon Greyjoy to attend me.

After a while, I began to hum.

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

And the tiller's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I sang the poem softly in a sea-chantey melody I'd made up long ago to go with the words.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

Maybe someday I could wangle a day on a longship. Might be fun.

Or even travel. God, had I loved Slocum's book...

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

"Well, now," Quellon Greyjoy said, doing his BatJoy impression of appearing without warning. "You must have a bit of ironman in you, my lord. That's an islander song, though I've never heard it before."

"'Sea-Fever'," I said. "I had a spell a couple of years ago when I read about famous sea-voyages."

"'A wild call and a clear call'." Quellon nodded. "What will be your pleasure?"

I opened the satchel.

I laid out the parchments.

I watched Quellon Greyjoy's composure crack as he saw exactly what Tywin and I had planned.

"Hello, Quellon," I said, waving Vir-style. "We're about to be the very best of friends."

Last edited: May 1, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Balon hated this rock even after barely half-a-day in it.

Nothing about it was like Pyke. The towers of Pyke swayed in time with wind and wave whenever the Storm God threw his anger against the islands. There was the fresh sea-scent of the ocean in every chamber. Casterly Rock was a corpse. The Drowned God couldn't reach you in this maze of unliving stone even if you could hear his fury booming from the caverns deep down. The pretty, ill-won treasures of the Lannisters everywhere were but pretty paint on a dead Lordsport harlot. So rich. They thought themselves so mighty. All their finery was won by the gold price. None of them had ever been strong enough to rip it from a defeated enemy. That they should look down on him and his rankled. He would be spending years here in their halls as if he were a weak greenlander like them.

Balon picked at his meal of rich meats laced with fine spices served upon golden plate. Give him an honest stew made of fish taken by one`s own line, served in a trencher of bread. Across the table, his father japed with that piss-thin little ferret of a riverman he had seated at his right hand. Where his own son and heir should be. Balon ignored what they were chattering about. More greenlander stuff. Merchant talk, no doubt. The toll-takers of the Freys were cravens all. Why should his father treat the stoat as if he were worth anything? His father was the greatest of men: strong and fast and clever. He was meant to reave and rape across the seas. Instead, his lord father acted as if the greenlanders were actually as worthy as the men of iron born.

Quellon clapped his hand on the stoat's back after they toasted each other with several cups of mead. Balon smirked when the riverman staggered. Good. Let his father remind this greenlander who was the true man in the room. The smirk became a frown when his father settled back at table with the papers Lord Royce had brought with him. Balon didn't see what was so important about them. The maps of Seagard and the lands between it and the Twins might be useful. But the other things? Maester stuff. Who cared? Balon mopped up the last of the gravy with oatbread. He meant to go back to his rooms. He needed time at the window to remind himself that the sea was out there

"Come here, son," Quellon commanded. No Lord Reaper of Pyke asked. "See your future."

"What's my future have to do with some damned moat?" Balon snapped back.

His father's fist smashed into his chin.

Balon swayed but didn't fall. He would make his father proud. He was proud that his father was such a hard man.

"Fucking fool," Quellon said. "This moat? This will be a canal that will grant our ships passage through the heart of the realm and into the narrow sea. No longer will we have to sail through Reach waters and risk the Dornish coast."

"We'll be as thralls to the Lannisters and the Freys," Balon snapped back. "If this should be made, it should be on the land we seized."

"So you'd pay the iron price for it," Quellon said. "Take the land as the Hoares did. I should touch you up again with this fist of mine. Seagard's a bastard to storm, and the Twins'd be worse. Something our friend Emmon knows well, which is why they aren't digging between Fairmarket and Ironman's Bay."

"It's the Old Way," Balon said.

"Old Ways for olden days," Quellon said. "The Royce boy's less clever than he thinks. The Drowned God bless me, I love a man who talks to much. Didn't you hear a word of what he said? A free port in the Stepstones, selling ice from the North to the southrons, taking coin for guarding convoys through dangerous waters? We'll make ten times as much coin as if we took it by the iron price."

"I'd rather be poor by the iron than rich by the gold," Balon said sullenly.

"I should send you to the Wall and adopt the Royce as mine," Quellon snarled. He at least struck Balon with a man's fist rather than the open palm given to a boy. "It's well that you're fostered here. You've been listening to those as drunk on seawater too much. I'll not have my work spoiled for a foolish brat."

Balon left his lord father to be seduced by greenlander fantasies. He loved him. Balon vowed that when he took the Seastone Chair he would make the Iron Islands as great as they should be were Quellon not entranced by mainland ways. Balon would find a way. He'd study every inch of this damned rock to seek a way to storm it. He would conquer this canal built from greenlander gold and toil. The ironborn would sweep down through the greenlands to take it from the dragons who had killed the last Greyjoy to reave in the name of the Drowned God. By salt and stone and steel, he would take this Royce`s lady wife and the two red-haired chits he sheltered as salt-brides.

Balon paced the rooms given to him. So much larger than his chambers in Pyke. The sea called to him. Balon flipped open his seaman`s chest-one every ironborn sailed with, that served as chair for when at a longship`s oars. He took leather gloves and stout boots, warm sealskin tunic and a length of rope. He stepped out onto the sill of his window. Just to his left was the cliff that was Casterly Rock rising up into the Storm God`s domain. Climbing up and down the towers of Pyke was as much a game as dashing over the rope bridges between them during a storm. Any boy who could do that could run the oars and climb a swaying mast, easy. Balon climbed up and up as he had heard his father boast of doing when in his cups.

Balon had chinned himself onto a parapet halfway up to rest when the crossbow quarrel swung up not an inch from his head.

The stoat stared at him, a maester`s far-seer beside him, with the arbalest in both hands.

"Another fucking Greyjoy ninja," Emmon Royce said. "Are all of you training to be batsquid?"

Balon was not craven. Not even in the face of a bolt that could punch through his skull as if it were parchment.

"Oh, go on up here." The riverman laid aside the crossbow. "Out for the ironborn version of an evening stroll?"

"Leave me be," Balon growled. "And I'll leave you be."

"I work for Tywin Fucking Lannister," Emmon said. "That little bad boy act does not impress me."

"What do you want with me?" Balon asked. "Need to measure my neck for the axe?"

"It's called 'polite conversation', you little shit." Emmon shrugged. "Whatever you want. Piss off if you want to, I'm just up here to stargaze."

Balon turned away to continue his climb.

"Wait. Dammit." Emmon took hold of a sleeve. "Actually, maybe you could help with a project of mine. I was told that ironborn kids build their first dories around your age. Same as a lot of Riverlanders make skiffs."

A pang went through Balon, of his first boat half-finished at home.

"I'd like to build something called a 'kayak'. Uh, it's a sort of boat that the Frozen Shore wildings use. Want to experiment with it."

A chance to take to the sea. Mayhap he could use this chance to escape some day to Pyke. To home.

"Come on. What have you got to lose?"

Balon stepped down.

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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No mead, no wine, no ale could make Barristan more drunk than the honour he had won this day.

Ser Barristan, he reminded himself as he wandered aimlessly among the pavilions surrounding the tourney grounds of Kings Landing. From within the walls of sailcloth and silk he heard the laughter of men celebrating the end of the tourney. Moans heralded another sort of celebration from other tents. Barristan flushed a little at that. Ser Manfred had offered him the price of a woman in the finest brothel on the Street of Silk for his victory today. That had been after cuffing his former squire for the temerity of entering the lists as a mystery knight. The joy whirling within him had driven him to refuse company of man or maid this eve.

One of the knights who had attended the winter tourney held by the King in the capital had not retired for the evening. The man's pavilion was large yet of humbler cut than most of those about him. It was tough sailcloth of the sort that might be raised for service in the field than for a tourney. The only luxury was the banner draped over its entrance. Curious, Barristan wandered close. He had seen the arms on public letters that reportedly had been nailed to inns all over the southern realms: the silhouette of Casterly Rock above stylized waves, with mountains and sunset behind. The writing on these epistles was oddly regular-as if stamped, rather than inked by quill-that was kin to other letters that had followed. The latter had been of woodcuts of the dreaded nobles-turned-bandits called the Reynes of Terror.

This must a knight of the Westerguard. The man sipped a steaming mug of the wakebean tea that had become the fashion in the Westerlands in the past year. The knight had to be past forty, yet seemed hale and hearty enough. Barristan knew the sort from his time with both his father and Ser Manfred Swann while riding the marches. Like as not a knight of the hedges, but not one who had turned to banditry in the lean years. Green eyes like chipped jade peered into the darkness. His broad features were no innkeep's. His weathered skin told of years out in all weathers. A walrus mustache and sideburns gave him some cover against the chilly winter gusts. He nodded politely to Barristan as he emerged from the shadows.

"Congratulations upon your victory, ser," the Westerguard knight said. "Unhorsing both a prince of the blood and the Lord-Commander of the Kingsguard? You earned your spurs today."

"The fortune of the lists, ser," Barristan replied modestly.

"Oh, fortune favors those with the skill to claim it," the westerman said.

"I did not see you in the lists," Barristan said. "Were you not here to win renown?"

"A constable of the Westerguard may not compete in tourneys." The Westerman smiled wryly. "And truth be told, I never was well-placed in the rankings when I tried. For years I abandoned knighthood for life in the Lannisport Watch, until our young lion of a lord called for all good men to bring order to the realm."

"Is your order akin to the Night's Watch?" Barristan asked.

"Not so harsh in our vows," the westerman said. "We may not hold land or title while in service. Marriage or, ahem, other pleasures are not denied us. The order even rewards long service with grants to any children trueborn or of natural birth for apprenticeships, should they not choose the Warrior's way."

"That is an interesting device you wear, ser," Barristan said, pointing at the gold badge pinned to his scarlet surcoat. "That of your own house?"

"It is the badge of our order," the westerman said. He tilted the seven-pointed star with the Father's scales in the center to catch the firelight. "These are the words of the Westerguard: 'Defend the Right'. To a constable of the Guard, honour is knowing that under our watch a maiden may travel from the Rock to any point in the West without fear."

"Yours is a brotherhood of true knights."

"We claim to be nothing so grand," the westerman replied. "Only that we bring the promise of our lord: peace, order, and good governance."

"I would have the honour of your name, ser," Barristan said.

"Ser Samwell Steele." The Westerguard clamped a curious hat upon his head. It was broad-brimmed brown felt pinched with four corners at the crown. "Now, if you will excuse me, my bold young knight, I am off to the privy lines. Take from an older man, never deny yourself a good piss when you have the chance."

Barristan laughed as the Westerguard strode off, already unlacing his midnight-blue breeches. The newly-dubbed knight wandered off in the rough direction of the pavilion where he had been Ser Manfred Swann's squire not a few hours ago. On the morrow they would head south down the kingsroad to the Stormlands. Ser Manfred would be returning to Stonehelm. Barristan supposed he would continue on to Harvest Hall now that his days as a squire were done. There were no tourneys to attend. The royal tourney had been a rare one called in winter. A slight sense of disappointment came over Barristan as he contemplated his future. Whither next? More tourneys? Or should he enlist in the king's service, for had not his grace dubbed him knight before the great and the good of the realm upon the lists? Mayhap he should go back to Harvest Hall to patrol the marches from the threat from over the Red Mountains. Though the Dornish had not threatened war in centuries since Good King Daeron had brought them into the Seven Kingdoms.

His eyes turned west, to where a young lion's cub had roared out a challenge to those who had despoiled his province.

To where the Reynes of Terror were in rebellion. The woodcuts upon the epistles had pictured dreadful atrocities against the smallfolk.

Defend the right.

Peace, order, and good government.

A doughty brotherhood who sought to guard the West as his house had guarded the marches since time immemorial.

The next day, Ser Barristan the Bold boarded a river galley headed up the Blackwater Rush with Ser Samwell Steele and the other men recruited as recruit-constables.

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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It was a terrible thing to do to such a fine ship.

With a heavy heart, Erik Ironmaker struck out the rivets of a garboard strake with a shipwright's mallet and awl. He could have done the job easier with one swing of his war-maul. But Shrike was no thief's hand to be smashed upon an anvil for its crimes. She had been a proud and honest longship serving under Ulf Weaver's able command for years. It has been the first ship he had served on as crew before he had had the coin for his own Sea-Hammer. So he worked with care to prize the strake from where it passed alongside the keel. He might have to smash the plank and feed it into the fire fueled by the other beached ships. The Shrike could still sail once more should her captain be able to pay the levy and afford the timber for the repair.

Ulf turned aside when the scraps of the strake blossomed into flame. Erik knew he was an ironman born. So it wasn't womanly tears in the veteran captain's eyes. Mayhap it was the smoke bothering him. It was bothering Erik himself, to tell the truth. Maiming good ships this way, even carefully, tore at Erik's guts worse than a greenlander's blade. Yet it was the duty of his house to carry out justice in the Iron Islands. Smiths had always been those who had carried out the traditional punishment for theft and rape: smashing the offending hand or cock on their anvil's. The Ironmakers had continued that duty even after rising from the puddling furnace to lordship. His first sentence had earned him the "Anvil-Breaker" to his name when he had proved a little too enthusiastic. So it was to the Ironmakers that went the sad duty of beaching the ships whose captains could not afford the tax levied for every oar a ship had. The Lord Reaper of Pyke had decreed that either coin be paid or the ship scuttled on land.

It was Quellon Greyjoy's revenge for those who had reaved the Westerlands. The Reaper could not have barred his subjects from striking such a weak greenlander kingdom closest to the islands. Now that the damned cub had bared his claws, Quellon was making sure no reaver might choose to raid the Westerlands in spite of thirty ships and his own heir left as hostage. Erik thought that it would be foolishness to try reaving now in the Westerlands even in spite of the Greyjoy's wroth. He had sailed with one of his own salt sons, a man grown and a captain himself, with the thirty sent to serve with the Warden of the West. The westermen might be whale-shit as sailors compared to ironborn. They made up for it in their new tactics: convoys and war galley patrols linked to those light-flashing things being put up on the coast-watch towers. Erik had seen how Lord Farman could find out the movements of a ship in sight of the coast from Crakehall to Banefort within half the turn of an hourglass.

A letter from his son in Lannisport had told that last moon's turn had seen men from the Shield Islands and from the Arbor coming to see the westermen's fleet at work.

Erik wasn't the crafty sort that Quellon was. His wisdom had always been in his might hammer and his muscles. Even a bluff man like himself could read tide and sky to sense when heavy weather was about to blow. If the other southrons and the northmen adopted the westermen's ways, then trying to reave along the shores of the Sunset Seas would not be as profitable as it had been in the days when Erik had sailed with Dagon Greyjoy. Well, truth be told, he'd been a babe in his mother's belly when Yara Ironmaker had gone raiding with Dagon. Even Dagon himself would have paused against striking the mainland against such odds. There was always the Stepstones and the Basilisk Islands where a good ironborn could practice the Old Way. That was still a long, hard sail along the dangerous southern coast of Dorne. Such voyages were hard enough in spring and summer. When autumn and winter came, even stout ironborn ships lost three to storms to every one that survived the trip.

So despite his sorrow, Erik had not joined the grumbling in the taverns and halls of the islands at Quellon`s schemes and taxes. Quellon had not betrayed the Old Way even if he taxed one on ships and for every thrall and salt-wife in one`s household. The "damned ditch" the Lannisters were planning would allow the ironmen to sail clear through the center of the Seven Kingdoms. There hadn't been longships on the Trident since the days when Harrenhal had burned under dragonfire and the rivermen drove out their masters. Mind, that meant the eastermen could craft their own light galleys shallow enough to reach the Sunset Sea through the canal. That was why on hidden slips on Great Wyck and Harlaw, out of view of passing southron ships, there were rising surprises to blunt any greenlander temptations against the islands. An Iron Fleet for the Iron Islands.

Which some day might include Bloodstone and Grey Gallows among them. There had been a rollicking time in the Great Hall of Pyke when Quellon had announced his ambitions for the narrow sea.

Erik turned to face Lordsport Harbor. The waters within the breakwater were far busier than usual in winter. Usually, only fishermen sailed out in the rough seas of the Sunset Sea and Ironman's Bay when the cold winds blew from the North. Now broad-beamed knarrs were coming in laden with timber and-of all cargos-ice packed in dried seaweed sledged from Torhenn's Square to Iron Islands traders with salted fish and mild steel from the new crucible-furnaces. The furnace-masters of Lordsport had finally worked out the tricky business of getting good steel from the air-blown crucibles; it helped that the ores of the islands worked well with this new method. Knarrs were sows on water compared to a longship. They only sported at best eight oars-relying more on sail-and weren't taxed as heavily. Shit for reaving. Good for trade. Erik thought the southron scheme to sell Northern ice to southron lords was mad. Ice melted. You wanted water outside the hull. Not melting inside. But if the stoat and his pet merchant were willing to pay, then the traders of the islands were willing to pack ice in old mines until spring. Erik would stick to good steel that the greenlanders would clamor for. Far better than trading raw ore for mainland goods.

Even with the smoke from the burning strakes clouding his vision, Erik Ironmaker scented a promising wind in the offing.

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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May 23, 2016

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#1,709

The arcane tests that separated the mere acolyte from a full wisdom of the Alchemist's Guild were many and varied. However, true mark of a pyromancer were not found in any tome: steady hands, good focus, and the reflexes of a starving shadowcat watching a mousehole. Wisdom Rossart had had need of all three during the latest test of the apparatus. He had five generations of pyromancers within his veins that he preferred to keep within said veins. Metaphorical, since pyromancy was not an occupation that lead to much contact with women. Many an alchemist had pursued the legendary dream of the homunculus in pursuit of both the secrets of life itself and female companionship not put off by singed and stained workrobes. Rossart disdained such mundane pursuits. It was fire, that which purified, that had fascinated since he was but a boy.

He had so adored watching the orphanage consumed in flames. Especially the screams of the septons who had oft ordered him to perform special prayers in their cells.

Well. Hmmm. The past was the past, wasn`t it? Rossart had transmuted himself from the dross of a boy lost in Flea Bottom to full wisdomhood in the Alchemists' Guild. A comfortable life, though what with the reputation of alchemists as charlatans one had to stoop to such tasks as dye-making and wine-distilling. There wasn't that much call for making the substance that the rabble named "wildfire" to provide a steady income. Which was why the letter from Casterly Rock had come as such a welcome surprise in the guild. The Lannisters had little truck with the guild-possibly out of fear that finally perfecting lead-into-gold would bankrupt them-aside from the odd performance of fire-tricks at a feast. But this Lord Royce must have had a pyromancer's soul in part. The formula he had asked them to research had been unusually exact for one seemingly without any training in the high arts of the guild.

Mind you, it had taken Rossart much of the past year to research how to practically apply the vague ideas in Lord Royce's letter. Were the proportions of nitre and charcoal and sulfur by weight or volume? What was the purity of the ingredients? Did one grind or mix them, and for how long? How damp did one make the mixture, was it water or some other liquid, and how precisely did one press out the moisture? What size grains were best? All fascinating questions which had resulted in many a disappointing fizzle and much more exciting bang. The loss rates of acolytes wasn't quite as terrible as producing the substance was. Yet progress had been made. The latest batches coming from the mixing cells was much more stable and poweful than their first forays into dragonpowder. It was nowhere near the substance in its potential. Yet even Rossart admitted that this dragonpowder was rather less prone to unexpected little incidents that gave the substance its undeserved reputation among the rabble.

It's use as a fuel source, mind, required a bit of rethinking. The guild had been able to acquire a letter-pressed copy of Lord Royce's engines four moon turns ago. The duffers in the Citadel had spread them through the new printeries springing up in the Arbor. Apparently the conjunction of a tradition of wine-pressing and the copious sawdust produced by the Redwyne's shipyards had been fertile ground for this new trade. The wisdoms of the guild had been quite enchanted with the ideas Lord Royce had proposed. Actually implementing them was a slight niggle, of course. Wisdom Belis was still on crutches after the attempted flight of a wildfire-fueled hot air balloon during the winter tourney. Rossart thought the king's ban on further attempts in the Crownlands was unfair. Not that much of the Kingswood had been set ablaze. Wisdom Garigus was close to discovering which mineral would perfect the air-crucible steel transmutator as hinted in Lord Royce's notes.

For his part, Rossart had become fascinated with the steam piston. Although he had thought it might ever be so much easier to power it via dragonpowder. Rossart sighed as several acolytes sluiced off the wall the unlucky assistant acolyte who had proven himself not to have the skills needed to prosper as an alchemist. Oh well, the next one selected from the ranks would learn by example. Rossart examined the brass and iron shrapnel embedded in the ironwood blast shield with respect. Mmmmmm. Lord Royce had claimed the dragonpowder was meant for mining and excavation purposes. It also had very very interesting properties in martial pursuits. Imagine sappers collapsing holdfast walls with a few sacks of it. Or tossing it by scorpion or spitfire. Then there had been that old scroll from Yi Ti about fire-arrows...

Rossart clapped his hands with glee.

It was a wonderful time to be an alchemist!

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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May 28, 2016

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#1,774

Better to marry an oaf than be a princess to an inbred sword-swallower.

Olenna Tyrell had cause today to regret the choice where she had terrified Daeron Targaryen into breaking their betrothal. Her lord husband Luthor was an agreeable sort as long as one did not expect scintillating conversation. Most men weren't capable of it in any case-being far too busy with charging at each other with sticks and drinking-so Olenna had not been unduly disappointed in that. Luthor was all in all an acceptable match: generous, not unskilled in bed, and master of a great realm that she could quietly direct while he was busy doing the aforementioned stick-smacking and ale-quaffing. The problem came when Luthor decided on those very rare occasions to rise above his limitations to act smart.

She glared angrily at the abomination that was either going to kill him, prove him a fool, or worse do both. She reckoned the foolishness far more deadly than the Stranger. The lords of the Reach might respect an oaf as their Lord-Paramount. Luthor was no Laughing Lion. Though not a Longthorn reborn, he was more than capable in the lists and in battle. Not six moon turns ago he had joined Lord Rowan's host in aiding the Lannisters in hunting down Reyne rebels who had been raiding into the Northmarch. That was where Luthor had met the oddly-gifted stoat who was the cub's favorite of late. That had inspired the ludicrous wager on which had brought them all out on this ungodsly-early hour.

Not that it had been an unprofitable occasion. The gathering of curious lords and ladies and knights from across the Reach had given Olenna the opportunity to advance her house. The Order of the Hospitallers had been established within the Reach due to her quiet campaigning. Very useful-the gifts of land she had had so many unwittingly extort from themselves would deprive them of the fruits of the gifts. All the while it would enhance the reputation of the Tyrells among the Faith. The Lannisters had done the same, although the gifts there had been granted to the order from debtors to his house. The Roseguard had also gained its first hundred recruits. Highgarden could not afford the vast sums the Lannisters had sunk into their realm-wide watch. But inveigling ambitious knights and lordlings to volunteer for the honor of serving in the Roseguard? Among them, chivalry and pageantry were as valuable coin as gold. That it bound them for ten years service was simply icing atop the lemoncake.

But Others take her, she could do without her husband trying to kill himself before he had even fathered an heir upon her! Olenna plastered a smile upon her lips as she came to offer her favour. She tied the garter about Luthor's right upper arm as he sat in the glider. She had no confidence in it actually flying. It didn't even have the shape of a bird or dragon. It was a triangle of waxed, light canvas tightly stitched to a frame of bamboo that was grown in one of the special gardens within the castle. Apparently a gift from a Hightower ages ago from a man who had brought it back from Yi Ti. Sticking out the back was what was called a "propeller", attached by a treacherous seeming arrangement of steel chains and wooden gears to a pair of treadle pedals. Her lord husband huffed and puffed as he worked them, dressed in a leather jerkin and cap. A blacksmith's goggles were clapped over his eyes.

"Do me a kindness," Olenna hissed at him. "When you tumble, try to land upon something useless. Your head would do."

"Hah, wife, always with the japes." Luthor stared at her with those damnably kind brown eyes of hers. Like a puppy, which should have been half-drowned as a lesson. "It will work! The maesters have tested it thoroughly."

"As kites," Olenna replied. "Why could you not spend your time in sensible pursuits?"

"Olenna," Luthor said, in the tones of explaining to a simple child, "I made a wager. What would my people say if I were a craven?"

"'He's alive'."

"Oh, fear not. I'll aim for the river." Luthor laughed. "A grand failure is better than nothing eh? Now, time for me to soar like an Arryn!"

Olenna groaned as the trebuchet was wound up.

Luthor pedaled harder.

The trebuchet's arm swung down, jerking the line threaded through the two wooden rails pointing up at an angle into the sky.

As Luthor Tyrell blurred past to the sound of creaking wood and flapping sailcloth, Olenna heard him cry-

"SMOKE ME A KIPPER, LOVE, I'LL BE BACK BY BREAKFAST!"

May 28, 2016

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#1,843

Gods be good, it was a civilization.

Maester Aemon stared in wonder at the valley of the Thenns. Everyone knew that the further north you went, the wilder things became beyond the Wall. This far into the Frostfangs was close to the inner heart of the Lands of Always Winter. Yet here in this valley was evidence of men who lived by law rather than the fractious anarchy of the wilding bands. Sturdy log halls of pine stood among what were clearly fields hidden beneath the deep snow. Shaggy cattle the size of aurochs milled in pens. Perched on strategic outcroppings above the small villages were ringforts of unmortared stone. These were not the ruins found south of the Wall. They were working holdfasts-the smoke from fires of a home or forge could be seen rising above their walls. The escort of shaggy men in leather tunics sewn with bronze scales, bearing bronze axes and leaf-headed spears of the same, marched in order as good as any disciplined southron foot.

The steaming river that remained unfrozen in spite of the deadly cold of winter beyond the Wall had the tell-tale brimstone scent of hot springs. Aemon knew it well from his days on Dragonstone and visiting the godswood of Winterfell. There must be a volcanic vent that was the source of the river that ran down the middle of the valley. It must provide the precious warmth that sheltered the Thenns from the worst ravages of winter. Aemon shuddered at the hellish temperatures just beyond the mouth of the home of the Thenns. The journey would have been hard for a fit man. For a man past fifty who had never been the most vigorous of souls, it had been an ordeal that had damned near killed him. Only the succour of the Thenns who had escorted him to this hidden enclave had allowed him to survive.

To think he was here because of a single letter from a boy of four-and-ten who by all accounts had never been farther north than the southern edges of the Neck. The sealed parchment that had arrived along with the disgraced Tarbecks had puzzled Maester Aemon greatly. How could this Emmon Frey know of lore that not even he, one of the finest graduates of the Citadel, had ever heard of? Yet buried within the archives of Castle Black had been confirmation that dragonglass and dragonsteel were bane to the mythical Others. The latter substance was a puzzle. Valyrian steel had been forged millenia after the Long Night was said to have ended. Yet something akin to that metal had been known among a people who knew only bronze. Before he had disappeared a moon's turn later, Bloodraven had returned from the Fist of the First Men after finding a cache of obsidian arrowheads buried on its slopes.

The rangers of the brotherhood had mocked their maester's obsession with a foe eight thousand years dead. No-one had blown the four blasts of a horn to warn of their coming. Yet Aemon could not help pondering a single passage from Emmon Frey's letter: "No one piles three hundred leagues' worth of ice seven hundred feet high to guard against raiders whose best showing are flint axes and bronze swords. Something scared the ever-living hells out of whoever actually raised that damned artificial glacier to make sure what was on the other side stayed there." Certain customs he had noted were common among even the most savage of the wildings had come to haunt him. Specifically, the custom of cremation. It seemed so much trouble to burn their dead when fire was so precious beyond the Wall.

Egg must have been quite puzzled by his brother's request for obsidian. More so for the precious blade worth a town's ransom riding on his hip. Well, he had still indulged the brother who had taken the Black rather than be a threat to a king's rule. What a tale Aemon would send back to King's Landing should he ever return. The certainty of that became rather more remote when he and his escort passed through the gates of a massive ringfort through which flowed the sulphurous waters of the river. Within was a godwood that put Winterfell's to shame. Sentinels and ironwoods and other trees formed a foreboding canopy above him. Aemon thought of the amusing tale that had come from the south: There and Back Again. What had been the name of the haunted forest of that story? Oh yes. The Mirkwood. This wood was equally as murky.

Aemon swallowed nervously when they reached the heart of the godswood. Rising high above a roiling crack in the stone from which poured the headwaters of the valley river was a weirdwood at least as big as the dead heart tree of Raventree Hall. Standing before it was a tall man with a receding hairline and ears rotted black by frostbite. His armor was burnished bronze scale engraved with the runes of the First Men. In his hands was a bronze longsword that, thankfully, was not across his lap. Of course, Aemon had not been given bread and salt or meat and mead just yet. The splashes of red on the roots of the weirwood were not sap. Aemon bowed low as if he were before the High Septon receiving a blessing from the Seven. This was the Magnar of the Thenns-not a mere chief, but a god in human flesh.

Two of the warriors in the escort brought the chests that had been lugged from the Wall by horse, sleigh, and on their backs.

The Magnar gasped when arrowheads, daggers, and axe-heards carved from dragonglass glittered in the sun filtering through the weirwood's branches.

"Bane of the enemy," the Magnar of Thenn whispered in the Old Tongue.

"And this too, I bring as a gift from the lord of the Magnar of Iron." Aemon handed the still-sheathed dagger to a warrior.

"Dragonsteel," the Magnar said, inspecting the smoke-grey blade with its dragonbone hilt. "Why have you come here, black cloak? Why have you come here so far to bring us such treasures?"

"I am an elder of my tribe," Aemon said in halting Old Tongue. "I seek truth. I seek wisdom. I seek to know of those who walk the night."

"Do not speak their names, even in this holy place." The Magnar nodded. A warrior came forth bearing a plate bearing salt and meat. "Welcome to our land, elder of the black cloaks. It has been long for any south-man who knew of the banes. Longer still since they brought them to us. You have done great service to our people for this."

"I only wish to learn, great Magnar."

"That you will...perhaps to your sorrow."

Last edited: May 28, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Jun 4, 2016

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#1,876

Rhaella clutched her brother's hand as they slipped through the streets of King's Landing. She had grown up listening to grandfather's tales of wandering through all the Seven Kingdoms living among the smallfolk. But she had lived all her life in the Red Keep or on Dragonstone. The only time she went among the commons was a-horse or by litter. It had been Aerys' fancy to slip out to play at being street urchins for the day. Her elder brother often had such whim. Sometimes they could even be fun, like the time he tried to fly a glider as Lord Tyrell had. Father had stopped him before he could run off the seaward wallwalk to soar over Blackwater Bay. It wouldn't do for a prince to break both legs as the Flying Rose had. Other times, Rhaella did not like her brother's whim at all. Those were the times when that look came into his eyes that had her quivering within. Usually he grew bored before anything bad happened.

This was one of the better times. There was always the stench of the city about them as summer bloomed. Yet it was not as bad as she remembered it from hazy memories of the summer before. The public bath-houses her grandsire had opened-like the ones in Lannisport-had the commons sweeter-smelling. The two children of the dragon had to squeeze between a fence and the wall of a bakery to get past a great hole dug into the street. Westermen miners could be heard past the boards clearing the sewers that had been blocked up since Baelor the Blessed's day. A public fountain was being cleared of decades of trash. Her grandfather had somehow roused himself from his books of prophecy and magic after hearing of the great works ordered by Tywin the Wise. He had even put Freys of his own upon the small council and as Steward of the City. Rhaella grimaced. Sir Stevron was nice enough in spite of his weaselish looks. But Lord Smegma? Ewwwwww. And that was before she had heard the servants tittering over what Walder Frey's nickname meant.

Rhaella clapped her hands in delight when they entered the tiny square hard up against Rhaenys' Hill deep within Flea Bottom. He had brought her to see a muppet show! They were ever so popular. Another creation of Lord Royce himself, as so many things seemed to be these days. She couldn't see anything over the crowd. Aerys hoisted her on his shoulders so she could see the wagon with its side set down to form a puppeteer's stage. Street hawkers sold twists of rye flatbread filled with delicious Lannisport smoked brisket. Aerys bought them both rolled waffles filled with another westerlands treat: "gelato". Rhaella loved it so. It was so much more common now that the White Harbour fleet was bringing cogs and carracks of ice from the North to icehouses carved out beneath the high hills of the city.

A bugle sounded.

As one, the crowd began to chant to ritual song as the green frog danced out on his strings.

It's time to play the music

It's time to light the lights

It's time to meet the Muppets on the Muppet Show tonight...

"I have come to avenge my sister," Aerys growled.

"Don't you dare touch my brother!" Rhaella spat back. "HIIIYAAAAA!"

They were back within their rooms within the Red Keep. They had slipped in through Shadowblack Lane in the guise of servants. Of course, Rhaella knew Ser Duncan had been following them since they had "snuck out" this morn. Aerys had been so crushed when the Lord Commander had revealed himself. He had thought he had fooled everyone. They had had to stay for a while while Ser Duncan had chatted with the Dornish mistress of the muppet show. They seemed to have known one another from ages ago. Ser Duncan had had a strange, sad expression as he had brought them back to the Red Keep.

It really had been a wonderful show. Those jokes from Waldorf and Statler in their carved balcony to one side of the stage had been so naughty! And even if it was played for a jape, Rhaella had thrilled to the tale of the Hound's Wedding played out on the stage. Everyone knew the tale of what had happened at the wedding of Ser Clegane and his wife Cerelle. It had spread from the hills of the West by mummers, bards, and the Lannisport Herald. How the Reynes of Terror had sought to treacherously ambush Tywin and the other guests at Clegane Keep at his own niece's wedding. Only it had been a trap plotted by Tywin himself. Though the battle had been a near-run thing. Everyone in the crowd had gasped when Gonzo as Lord Emmon had fallen under the Red Lion's blade as the Lion's Ferret had defended his liege lord. Then Rowf as Ser Barristan had come to the rescue for the final battle by a waterfall.

They had never found Ser Roger's body.

No-one could survive such a fall, of course.

Aerys and Rhaella had another hour before their septa would insist they retire. Rhaella felt very strange that Father still made them sleep in the same bed. Weren't they too old for that? It was almost as if they were sibling husband and wife like Father and Mother were. An ache came through her tummy at the thought. Aerys had become very angry at times when they had to share a bed. She knew he wanted to slip in one of the servant girls he liked playing with in the dark. On the sly, sometimes he pinched her for "spoiling his fun". Mayhap she could defy Father's edicts tonight. He was off to Dragonstone after a bad quarrel with her grandsire. Rhaella was glad that the woods-witch who Lady Jenny had brought to court had been sent away to her den in the Riverlands. Rhaella did not like the tiny woman at all.

A knock on the door stilled their play. Rhaella stiffened when Ser Duncan entered their bedchamber in the white plate and cloak of a Kingsguard about his duty. Her grandsire followed in robes of state with his crown atop his head. This was not her funny grandsire who played with her. This was his grace, the King upon the Iron Throne. Her tummy roiled at his serious expression. Was he angry at their deception for the day? It wasn't fair! Had he not shaved his head and hidden among the commons himself as a lad?

"Rhaella," Aegon V said, "I have received a raven from Casterly Rock not one hour ago. Prepare yourself. A ship awaits at the docks for you."

"Not to worry, I'll be coming along," Ser Duncan said.

"Sister, you're so lucky!" Aerys clapped his hands in delight. "It's a betrothal, isn't it? Oh, you're going to the West. The most exciting place in the Realm."

"I would like to think my court has some attractions," the king said. "But yes. We have been negotiating for your hand with Lord Tywin's regents. Our offer has been accepted. Within a moon's turn arriving at the Rock, you will wed to become his lady wife."

"But-but I am but one-and-ten," Rhaella stammered.

"I've found that delaying weddings only leads to my sorrow," Aegon said. "Would that Ser Duncan had given my children all the clouts behind the ear he had promised me as a lad."

"Seen less need these past years, since you put away those scrolls," Ser Duncan said.

"Dragons. I had allowed myself to dream of dragons, when it was good hard work that was needed." Aegon took her hands, becoming her grandsire in an instant. "Rhaella. My beloved child. Please. I know this is sudden. I know that you had...affection for Ser Bonifer. Yet I beg you, accept your duty. Tywin appears to be a fine boy. A strong lord."

Rhaella shivered at that. Lord Tywin had another name: the Ruthless, for what he had done to Ellyn Tarbeck.

She glanced sideways at her brother. Then at the bed they shared.

"I accept my duty, your grace."

"Gods be good, someone finally does!"

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#1,973

My left eye was screwed up.

Blurry.

What-what was going on?

I was on the ground. Screams all around me. The ringing in my ears resolved itself into the clash of steel upon steel. I'd become very familiar with that melody in the three years spent fighting the Reynes. Why in the seven hells had I volunteered for this? Oh, yeah. Because Tywin Fucking Lannister expected every able bodied lord to do his duty in the field. Because I'd seen what those fuckers had done to the two Lannett girls over a week of pack-raping them before the dynamic duo of Steele and Bold had rescued them. Three years of on-and-off combat against the reavers that Ser Roger Cunting Reyne and the traitors among the westerlords were funding on the sly. The bastards had been doing their level best to shit all over the work we were trying to do: burning post-inns, killing the road crews and the workers canalising the Tumblestone, a hundred petty and vicious outrages against the smallfolk.

My right eye cleared. My left eye was a mess. Detached retina, maybe. My late father had suffered an injury in childhood where he was effectively blind in one eye when a schoolmate had thrown a chalkboard eraser at him. Ow. How had the happened? A sudden flash retrieved from short term memory came of a sword pommel smashing into my face. That explained the bloom of agony around my fucked-up eye. That had been Ser Roger Reyne's work. Heh. Wow, had I leveled up or what? I had actually lasted twenty seconds in melee combat with the lunatic. I think I landed some decent hits with the poleaxe I had had hidden under the trestle table, along with the open-faced helm.

Even though we had intelligence the Reynes might try an ambush, everyone had told me that had been a little bit too paranoid.

Fucking weddings.

We had had a plan. The musicians were actually Rock guards armed with crossbows, miming their performance while minstrels played the actual pieces out of sight. The redcloaks had been instructed to form a defensive square around the tempting target of the wedding party feasting outside Clegane Keep. That part had gone off. The crossbowmen had even kept up a counter-march with their arbalests-a technique I recalled from reading about the Dutch developments with arquebuses against the Spanish-that had done a number on the attackers. Then Ser Roger Cunting Reyne had proven that horses will charge a disciplined foot square if the horse is a trained destrier and its rider is a maniac burning for vengeance. A wedge of horse lead by the Red Lion had smashed through our defensive lines.

My right eye focused on a limp form beneath the table. Green eyes were wide with pain as Genna clutched the stab wounds in her stomach.

Another memory: Genna smashing the Red Lion in the face with a lute screaming to get away from her brother.

Her gasp when the poignard had rammed half-a-dozen times into her.

My scream of rage nearly drowned out the Red Lion's wail when I drove the spike topping my poleaxe through his codpiece from behind.

Then I mercifully descended into the dark arms of the Stranger.

I'll meet you on the other side, Genn-

Others drink my blood, I loathe failure dreams with a passion beyond words.

Water splashed over the rim of the tub when I snapped awake. Gods. I had been having that horror show of a dream for a year. The fight with the Red Lion had been like the time I'd ridden a scooter into the driver's side door of a car that had been obscured by a stopped bus. I still insisted I'd had the green. Anyway. Those few hideous seconds where I'd seen what the probably-not-dead asshole had done to Genn would be marked on my brain for eternity. Ser Barristan had insisted no one could have survived that fall off the cliff into that rocky pool at the base of the waterfall. But I knew in my knotted up gut that tropes were going to trope. The Red Lion had managed to fight on horseback in a running battle with the Westerland's equivant of Riggs and Murtaugh with a fractured sword-arm and skewered ballsack before pulling a no-body-discovered Disney Death. Like fuck was the asshole dead. I wouldn't believe he was gone unless I had his skull mounted above my gate.

Genna clung tighter to me. I gently touched her beneath the water. I traced the scars on her stomach. It didn't seem perverted to me these days that we often shared a bath together. There was nothing sexual about it. She was still only one-and-ten. I was a man-past-grown at eight-and-ten. I had no urges to be that way with my still-child bride even if she had become a little more exploratory when kissing me goodnight. But any hint of distance between us had dissolved in the months of recovery from the Hound's Wedding. I swear by the hairy balls of the Black Goat of Qohor, next time I attended a Westerosi wedding it would be in full plate with a century of Unsullied backing me up. Through the fevers and the night terrors and struggling to walk, Genn and I had clung to one another after nearly losing the other that time.

Genna murmured sleepily when I wrapped her up on a towel. I cradled her in my arms as I carried her out of the bathing chamber. The bathing chamber was hidden from the main room by a painted wooden partition. A copper boiler with a crude-but-effective release valve tapped heat from a heat-exchanging coil within the chimney of the iron stove outside. A water privy discharged through a shaft into the cellar. Cisterns in the roof eased the burden of the staff filling the boiler and privy tankl.

Drying Genna off, I slipped her into a simple nightgown before stumbling to the window seat overlooking the town. The chunk of flesh missing from my left thigh hadn't been the Red Lion's work. That had been a souvenir from the Silverhill battle, when we'd cornered the raiders into the Northmarch with Tyrell and Rowan levies. Some lucky little scrub of a Reyne bastard squire had stuck me with a crude lance. Maester Pycelle at the Great Hospital of the Hospitallers in Lannisport had had to clean out the mortification with maggots when infection had set in.

Let's just say I had collected a lovely series of scars and aches, atop the blurry left eye and fractured orbital that the cunt had given me.

I blazed up my pipe with a silver lighter. It was a crude Ronson fueled by naptha distilled from coal tar. A cotton wick flared up when a spring-driven hammer hitting a chunk of amethyst wound with copper wire provided a spark. Sourleaf was usually chewed. I think that the Emmon of canon had the distinctive red stain on his choppers. It turned out that smoking sourleaf had roughly the effect of very good chronic. Thankfully, the buzz came without the paranoia or the munchies of cannabis. I was paranoid enough these days without chemical assistance. I knew I would have to seek help somehow. I had been hitting the pipe hard in the day of late, along with a few more cups of wine when the sun was below the yard-arm. Some of it could be attributed to PTSD. It also could have come from finding out Walder Frey had narced out our secret canal project to the Crown. I had heard the devious fucker had even implied my ideas had been inspired by him. He had conned a small council position of Master of Works out of Egg, which meant smugness levels in the Crownlands were way above safe levels.

Casterly Rock and Riverrum had mutually facepalmed when finding out that Walder had effective power over approving major infrastructure projects.

We had snuck in the canalisation of the Tumblestone before he had consolidated his position. I gazed out into the landscape of the Tumblestone Valley. It was now my wife's fief running from close to the headwaters all the way to the frontier of the riverlands. Tywin had granted it to his sister in recompense for having the ruins of Tarbeck Hall turned into gravel and paving stones for the Roman-style roads being created along the three major thoroughfares of the west. Tywin had maintained the pace of the civil engineering all through the Reyne of Terror. Tytos' post-inns and stagecoaches were finally running, with service reaching King's Landing and Oldtown. The locks along the Tumblestone had been finished at a breakneck pace with Iron Islands thrall labour granted by Quellon. Said thralls had a tendency to run off-ooops, pinky touch to mouth-while the Tumblestone Valley had gotten a new batch of smallfolk. Tywin had especially lavished gold and men on the construction of the basin meant for river-galleys and poleboats lapping the base of the walls of my own holding.

My fief.

Lord Emmon Royce, lord of Wesselton.

To quote Walder: heh.

Last edited: Jun 6, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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One of the advantages of having a goodbrother who owned his own geological feature was never having to pay for building material. The stone of our castle, the town walls, and even the cobblestones in the street had been quarried out of Casterly Rock. It was as if Tywin had wanted his sister and her descendants to live in a spiritual extension of the Rock. It was both endearing and just a touch creepily obsessive. He had also included stone from every castle and holdfast of rebel lords that he had had torn down. The demolition work had been done by the former occupants right before he had them sent to the guillotine or a hemp noose. That was a lot less endearing. You did have to appreciate the gesture of raising the seat of his beloved sister's new home from the rubble of those he had crushed by his merciless will. I was pretty sure that he hadn't actually had the mortar from the bones and tears of said enemies. That said, I had had Septon Tymon do a few ritual exorcisms before moving into our spiffy new abode.

Frontenac, our seat and symbol of all who had pissed off Tywin, wasn't a Winterfell or Highgarden. It was still a more than respectable fortress meant to dominate a key town and major new trade route. The thirty-foot high curtain walls enclosed a large bailey that had once been a rounded hill that had been in the center of the Wesselton site. Dragonpowder and lots and lots of smallfolk with pick and shovel had leveled it out so that the base of the curtain wall was a good ten feet above the ground. The waters of the Tumblestone had been channeled into a moat surrounding the hill. No sharks with lasers on their heads had been stocked in its waters. Although with Qyburn existing sometime in the future, it was only a matter of time. A drum tower acted as a barbican to the drawbridge leading from the town to the castle proper.

The layout I had worked out with the aid of Maester Beldon consulting several architectural works was unusual by Westerosi standards. Some memories of a wikicrawl on castle design had led me to leave out the traditional central keep. The gatehouse itself was a holdfast in miniature: a tall central tower rising a good three storeys above the top of the curtain walls. Two slightly shorter towers flanked it just behind and to either side. The entrance passage through the center passage had iron portcullises backed with ironwood gates at either end and murder holes in the ceiling. The bailey was dominated by a great hall of stone and timber which also housed the kitchens and the castle sept. The stables, smithy, and other buildings hugged the inner walls. Other towers around the curtain walls provided further accomadations and defenses. Behind the great hall was a small godswood above whose treetops showed the delicate glass-and-steel dome of a glass garden.

Surrounding the castle was a town which already housed three thousand souls within a defensive wall. The houses were mainly red brick with half-timbered upper storeys. Brick from the Red Fork clay dredged out from near Rivverun had been used along with Roman-style hydraulic cement to seal the lock chambers along the Tumblestone. With the kilns already in place, making more brick for the town had been the most economical course. The town actually straddled the Tumblestone. Timber bridges linked the residences of the smallfolk on the south bank to the wealthier quarters of merchants and town officials of the north bank. Frontenac's barbican faced a neat town square around which were the guildhall, the library, the Hospitaller hospital, and the Wesselton sept. Water gates to the east and west controlled access to the river within the town. The large port basin outside the east gate was dammed with locks to provide access. Eighteen-oared river galleys, gaff-rigged sloops, and poleboats were tied up at the wharves.

Tywin had accepted my resignation as Master of Justice and personal counselor without much emotion. He might have been disappointed. He had the courtesies to grant me leave to retire to my new fief without any recrimination. I think he knew by then I had reached near my breaking point. I couldn't take it any more. At least, not for a while. Most of past few years had been spent either inspecting the projects I had introduced or else in the fight against the Reynes. It had been the most exhilarating, productive period of either this life or the last. But I had barely had time to share one day out of seven with Genna. She had damn near died before we had ever really gotten to know one another. Thank the gods for pre-teen puppy fat and that I'd forced her to wear a boiled-leather corset under her gown. Otherwise she would be dead.

We needed quiet time together to learn how to live together and rule together.

I was dead and done of drama.

So, naturally, last night an encoded message came up the semaphore line from Casterly Rock announcing that within two weeks a royal princess would be arriving at Wesselton. Rhaella Targaryen would be our guest while Tywin would come up to acquaint himself with his bride-to-be.

Joy.

Last edited: Oct 1, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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There's a butterfly fluttering its wings and setting off a typhoon in China. Then there's what I'd inadvertently caused, which is closer to Mothra creating a coronal mass ejection that broils Mercury. By the Maiden's teats, Tywin scoring Rhaella as a bride changed damn near everything about his potential character arc. He wouldn't have to scheme to slide one of his kids into the royal bridal bed. The children he might have with Rhaella would have a blood claim to the Iron Throne far better than Robert Baratheon's in canon. This had implications to the nascent "southron ambitions" conspiracy that might be in the early stages around now. Especially since the deep economic ties Tywin was forging with the Riverlands and the Iron Islands meant the Lannister's support would be critical. That wasn't even likely to include us since Tywin had publicly adopted most of Aegon V's protections and privileges as official policy.

Convincing Tywin to issue that Charter of Rights and Freedoms had been one of the most surprising feats I had managed. I mean, he had adopted as a personal motto the Canadian credo of "peace, order, and good governance". Bold infrastructure projects to enhance his house's damaged image were of a piece of what he had accomplished in canon as Aerys' Hand. But he still had no connection to the smallfolk beyond seeing a strong hand as all that was needed to ensure their loyalty. It had taken the utterly brutal Reyne of Terror to force Tywin to ignore the other regents' objections to adopt my "hearts and minds" policy. Not that I was a military genius. But I knew what had worked historically from readings of the British SAS in the Malayan Emergency and the Indonesian konfrontasi. Fact was, it had reaped dividends in soft power among the commons. It had become a stark choice among the smallfolk between supporting their possibly subversive lords or helping the lord-paramount who had granted them the rights promised to them by the Iron Throne. The work of the Westerguard would have been impossible without the peasantry tipping them off and responding to calls for deputization.

Tywin was cynical as fuck about the idealism of Aegon's policies.

If a weapon worked? Like in canon, he would use it as long as he could get away with it.

I supposed I should mourn the OTP of TyJo that would never be. I'd met Ser Jason's daughter when she visited with her mother from Feastfires. Joanna Lannister was a whip-smart kid who was one of the best GM's in the active Monsters and Maidens gaming circles among the female elites of the Rock and Lannisport. Whatever spark that had arose between a young handmaiden exposed to the sophistication of the capital and a royal page exiled to the court hadn't manifested. Tywin was too busy being ruthless overlord to notice his first cousin as anything more than an acquaintance. I was less mournful given what I knew of the absolute hell that Rhaella had experienced at Aerys' hands in canon. Even a cold and dutiful husband was better than a life of marital rape from a incestuous nutjob with a pyro fetish.

The buzz from my sourleaf high faded when I thought of the other butterflies that had flapped their wings in less pleasant fashion. Because of me, the brutal yet limited conflict of the Reyne-Tarbeck Rebellion had instead been a savage insurgency that had lead to five times as many deaths. If not more. The invitation pool for the next Casterly Rock wedding was going to be pretty limited. The Lannisters had scoured the westerlord nobility-both highborn and landed knight-for links to the Reyne of Terror. A good fourth of the lesser aristocracy had ended on gold-plated steel impaling stakes on the slopes of the Rock. Part of my burn-out had come from that little bit of business. A fair number of merchants, millers, and other prominent smallfolk had had the maiden daughters of these traitors married into their lines under the "you have a choice...I never said it was a good one" principle. Deaths among the peasantry from the chaos and fighting filled lichyards across the westerlands. And then there was Gerion. Unlike canon, Jeyne had not born a fourth son and died of a sudden fever a moon's turn later.

The fucking Reynes had gotten access to a wine cup, somehow. Only Maester Pycelle's skills and Maggy the Frog's potions had saved Jeyne Marbrand's lfe.

But unlike all her other children, Gerion had not been proudly displayed for all to marvel at.

Man plots. The gods laugh. And the gods have a nasty sense of humour.

"My brother is to marry a Targaryen? And she's coming here?" Genna exclaimed.

"Don't panic, Genn," I reassured her. "Our staff's trained at the Rock. They should be able to handle it. We have two weeks. Tywin said they wanted a quiet time together."

"Emm, I love you, but you're a schmuck," Genna retorted, digging into an omellette laden with ham and Dornish pepper. "I've seen what happens when royals visit, from the times when the King brought his knights to bring order. Our cellars will be dry in a sennight. We'll run out of moon tea for all the bastards her retainers will father on our serving girls. A royal princess here for a month? It will drain our coffers.'

"We're not exactly hurting for coin," I said. "Our share from Lord Spicer's ice trade alone should handle the cost."

"It will barely cover the silk and thread for the banners!" Genna shouted. "Gods be damned, my thundering fool of a brother has no idea how poor any holdfast is compared to the Rock. We can't ask him for gold. He'll think us too weak."

"We'll manage, Genn," I replied. "It'll be nice to have a girl your age around, won't it? You could include her in that play-by-raven game that Joanna's running."

"I'll have to give her our rooms," Genna grumped.

"'My goodsister, the Princess Rhaella.' Say it to yourself. Embrace the smugness."

"That's why I love you so, my lord husband." Genna's hand whipped out, snatching my pipe away. "Which is why I had the servants take away all your sourleaf to toss into the stove. If anyone so much as gives you a drop of riverlands piss from now until when the princess leaves for the Rock, they'll be flogged to the bone. I won't have my brother or his betrothed to see you becoming a sot."

Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, there was a reason why I now privately called Genna "She Who Must Be Obeyed". The seven-year old girl I had woken up next to had become much more assertive in the years since. It must have been from being the head of our household while I was off dealing with whatever fire Tywin had ordered me to put out. The fact she had found her inner Crom to smash a lute in the Red Lion's face had been the final clue that she was becoming the domineering figure seen in canon. On the one hand, it was deeply satisfying to see the encouragement I had given her let her achieve what her sex had denied her in what would have been her life. She was deeply involved with the running of the Tumblestone Canal. She had attended every meeting where the engineers had discussed the works. The gods knew she had a better head for management at one-and-ten than I did being seven years older. On the other hand, it was aggravating as hell at times for the same reason I often clashed with my mother when she had tried to butt into my life.

Even though like my mom, Genna was absolutely right.

Genna tucked into her generous breakfast portions with the relish of Oberyn Martell coming into a Lyseni bath-house. Clearly the stab wounds in her tummy hadn't slowed down her appetite. Only the metabolism of youth, a passion for riding, and an obsession with mounted lawn hockey (another odd butterfly) stopped her from becoming the lot of Lannister she had been by her fifties. I didn't comment on that. Mainly because I do have a tiny amount of self preservation and a smidgen of a mouth-to-brain filter. As it was, she was...uh. Look. Like I said, it wasn't sexual. But I was seeing hints of the shapely beauty she'd be in a few years. I think she had caught me doing the notice-and-look-away routine. Genna was just preocious enough in that department to smirk about it. Gods. Being married to a girl still in her tweens had my head doing seriously weird things.

While Genna ensured there'd be no starving orphans in Volantis, I idly flipped through the copy of the Oldtown Beacon that had arrived on the last mail-coach. I didn't bother with the Lannisport Herald. Although we did subscribe to it out of loyalty. Genna also was addicted to the society column. The Herald was an out-and-out propaganda rag that in my old world would have had "paid advertisement" printed on the edge of every page. It's editorial line was the awesomeness of the Lannisters, the vileness of all who opposed Tywin's enlightened rule, and some tiny nuggets of actual news sprinkled among the stroking of my liege lord's ego. The Oldtown Beacon was something approaching an actual newspaper. Handwritten gossip letters written by scribes from the Citadel had been circulating for centuries among the merchants and upper classes. With the example of the Herald, a number of those scribes had established their own "paper herald" to capitalize on Oldtown's literate population. Plenty of the scribes' customers outside Oldtown had followed suit buying regular deliveries of the Beacon. The news was slanted towards the goodness of the Hightowers and the Reach. But Oldtown's status as the second greatest trade city in the realm meant it was a magnet for news. Even if much of it was of the Weekly World News variety given that many of the sources were sailor's tall tales.

A particular by-line caught my eye. Genna didn't see the smirk that briefly creased my lips. It appeared that a certain ironborn longship had mysteriously exploded in the Whispering Sound in the night. No survivors. The by-line was of a scribe on the staff of the Beacon who accepted a purse of stags every month to publish such articles under this specific nom de plume. It was a signal from Artos Stone-now Lord Spicer, master of Rivergard on a key lock on the Tumblestone-that yet another of those on the list could be crossed off. Turns out that, with a little experimentation, a crude yet reliable form of the time pencil detonator was possible at the high medieval tech level of Westeros. A certain chest of spices had had a false bottom with a charge of dragonpowder and jars of naptha within. Whoever of those who Artos' allies had sent the chest aboard had estimated the timing perfectly with the pencils. Ironborn longships were such fragile things. So vulnerable to a blast of flaming oil that came out of nowhere.

The Lannisters sent their regards.

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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I wasn't kidding that I hoped Genna would grow up quickly enough to rule her fief in her own right.

As a lord, I figure that I rated as a B- as an administrator. I had never been an authority figure in any job I had been in. Any time I had tried to enforce authority even a little bit had been blocked by people somehow not taking me seriously. That hadn't been as much a problem in this iteration of my life. My reputation as Tywin's executioner and the social benefit of my bloodline entitling me to be an officious asshole gave me some standing. But really, I was more of a diligent plodder than a genius of a leader. Give me a routine, and I'd stick to it with a reasonable attention to detail. I had run the execution squads and the cells for the high hostages without any problems. Well, aside from the obvious soul-scorching despair at it all. I was also good for relating ideas from my old life, though those were running out more and more. Any successes I had had in war had come from having reliable commanders willing to make the butterbar look good.

That was why I had asked Tywin to grant the rest of Castamere to the Hospitallers. I simply couldn`t see myself having that vast a responsibility even if I`d been of sound mind after the Hound`s Wedding. Being the lord of Wesselton was nerve-racking enough. So far I hadn`t screwed up too badly. It helped that most of the prominent officials were experienced guildsmen and officers from Lannisport; I suspected that they had been hand-picked by the Lannisters for the exact purpose of supporting an inexperienced lordling. My rulership style had been a steady routine where I mostly checked accounts, sat in judgement twice a week, and had frequent panic attacks that I was missing something important. Having Genna assume the full mantle of Lady of Frontenac meant I go back to being a cog the larger scheme of things.

I put on my best contemplative expression as I reviewed the two lines of Wesselton watchmen who had formed up into two ranks facing each other in the town square. There was a wide space between them for the royal procession to pass between when Rhaella finally arrived. They were gussied up in three-quarter plate that had been polished to best parade-ground shine. Halberds rested at an angle just so to complement the swords sheathed at their hips. Bronze-dyed tabards bearing the broken-bridge and smith's hammer sigil of my branch of the Royces fluttered slightly in the breeze sweeping in from the mountains flanking the valley. The past few years of life with the Lannisters had taught me a lot about the small details of heraldry and troop presentation. These watchmen wouldn't have fared too badly in comparison to the Lannisport Watch or the redcloaks.

My watchmen.

My town.

Nominally half my castle, too.

Please, please don't let me fuck this up.

I dismissed them with an approving nod and a wave of the hand. I heard quiet sighs of relief as they trooped back into the barracks flanking the barbican tower defending Frontenac's drawbridge. The drum tower and the barracks was a miniature castle that was my seat as Lord of Wesselton. My solar and private apartments were on the top. The arrangement was modeled on that between the Red Keep and Dragonstone, or perhaps between the Eyrie and the Gates of the Moon. The lords of Wesselton were stewards of the town and guardians of the approaches to Frontenac. Everything within the walls and smallfolk villages within a league were sworn to them. The lordship granted heirs and second sons to have standing in the nobility. It also granted me an excuse to retreat into my own private man-cave if Genna and I happened to get on each other's nerves. I still wasn't completely sure I was going to be a decent husband.

A brace of watchmen trooped out in their regular duty gear of leather jacks and breeches beneath light cotton surcoats. Functional leather derbies with bronze heraldic pins bearing Royce of Wesselton sigil made them look both smart and could stop at least one sword blow. There was a reason that the bowler hat was originally worn by foresters charged keeping poachers out their lords' hunting preserves. At their hips were ironwood truncheons that served at their main weapon as when keeping the peace. The watchmen at the gates and select patrols bore swords and halberds for when matters got serious. I tipped my tricorn hat to them out of noblesse oblige. So far my little attempt at introducing a new style into Westeros hadn't quite caught on. But like a man who has once or twice affected a goatee, I persisted in what was likely a really bad fashion choice. Every guy has to have the odd Hawaiian shirt moment.

The solar atop the barbican was for private audiences. The Guildhall was for large town meetings and occasions. However, I found that day-to-day administration was best performed in another setting. A block away from the square by the riverside, along the avenue running along the north bank, was where Wesselton's center of power actually resided. A three-story grey stone building occupied an entire block. Above its doors were two golden arches flanked by Lannister-style lions. A post-coach with a team of four in crimson and gold tack clattered out of the gate leading to the mews in back. Right on time for the afternoon run to Ashemark. The coachman in Lannister livery tipped his black top hat with a crimson-and-gold band to me as I passed. That little bit of fashion importation from Earth had gained favour as a jaunty touch for certain class of servants.

The common room of Wesselton's Golden Arches Inn was thronged with merchants, travelers, and knights enjoying a mid-morning meal. Serving girls in long black dresses accentuated with vestigial white aprons and stiff white lace headpieces expertly navigated among the tables and booths. Honestly, I had suggested the French maid costume as their uniform out of a random, slightly tipsy whim to Tytos. I didn't actually mean to introduce the maid-cafe to the Seven Kingdoms. My usual table at the back was already waiting for me with a glass-and-brass siphon pot bubbling upon a spirit lamp burner.

Myranda Hll bobbed a curtsy to me with a shy smile and a flush to her cheeks. She was a petite woman-grown of seven-and-ten with the golden curls of the Lannett family and the soulful brown eyes of the draper's daughter who had been her mother. A slight crook to her nose was the only evidence of the horrors she had endured with the Lannett sisters when the Reynes had taken them. Fuck. The three girls had been out for a picnic within a few leagues of the Rock. They had supposed themselves safe. I suppressed the flash of rage at that memory to return her smile. She presented the freshly-ground wakebean for my inspection.

Her demurely-clad yet...uh...okay, they were real and spectacular bosom innocently brushed my right upper arm.

I had to adjust my breeches a little under the tablecloth.

Dammit.

I wasn't exactly proud of myself how it had come about. You like to think yourself the noble guy above it all. One reason the serving women at Frontenac were drawn from the salt-wives ransomed from the Iron Islands was to avoid that kind of temptation. But this new body had appetites. I'd stuck to patronizing Mrs. Palm's for a good two years into my marriage. But one night a moon's turn after the return from the Northmarch campaign I had come back tired and a little soused from dinner at the Rock. Matching goblets with Luthor Tyrell was not recommended for sobriety. I had taken in Myranda as a servant like I had taken in Rohanne and Cerelle. Only Myranda was just a year younger than my body was. I swear I had only gone in to see how she was. Genna staying at the Rock that night to spend time with her family had been a mistake, in retrospect.

By Westerosi standards, what had happened in the trundle bed in the midnight hours was a minor peccadillo at best. For all that the power disparity between a lord and a bastard servant would have had feminists screeching about it back in my old society. The episode between Myranda and I had creeped me out for days afterward. It reminded me all to much of the iffy consensuality that Tyrion's first time with Tysha at the inn. That Myranda had suffered the worst abuse of the three girls by nature of her bastard status had not helped matters. The fact that I'd held her afterwards made me damn-near a saint when it came to this sort of...

Well.

Affair.

There were rules.

There were courtesies.

Never within the walls of Frontenac. Never more than covert intimacies in public. Make sure that she left as demurely clad and turned out as when she entered.

I smiled politely to Myranda as she set the upper brewing chamber into place.

Gods, don't let me fuck this up.

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#2,604

I was pretty sure that Tytos Lannister didn't realize that he had created a chain of brothels.

That might be a little unfair. Actual, out-and-out whoring was quashed whenever Tytos' inspectors passed through. The man who had lost himself in the arms of low-born paramours in canon wasn't the Tytos in this timeline; he was still the devoted, loving husband whose unctuousness towards his lady wife had only deepened after nearly losing her. Tytos' position was also dependent on Tywin's good graces. The Golden Lion Inns were funded by a grant of gold from son to father that had Tywin with a majority share. Any hint that Tytos was screwing up again or besmirching the Lannister reputation would have the post-inns taken away. So the management of the Golden Lion Inns was ruthless in rooting out any prostitutes who tried to set up shop.

Humans will still be humans, though. Things were somewhat different in the smaller, outlying inns that served as coach-stops. It was in the larger towns and cities where minor nobility and rich smallfolk got up to shenanigans. It wasn't unknown for the hall captains who supervised each floor to palm a silver stag in return for a blind eye to a pair of lovers who wanted a quiet room for a few hours. Westeros was also the Land of the Saucy Tavern Wench. The waitresses in the maid cafes in the larger inns were specifically hired for their cuteness and eagerness to please. Which, um, shall we say often extended after hours to certain favored patrons in return for generous tips or valuable gifts. Let's just say that my arrangement with Myranda wasn't unique. A rough bro-code ensured that no-one noticed each other when the game of musical inn rooms was in play.

I admitted that my own arrangement was more elaborate than most. The usual procedure was meeting in an unrented room in the afternoon before the coaches arrived with the night's guests. The private reading rooms were also a favored trysting spot for those who wanted to be a little less obvious. It was amazing how intense some people were about books, hem hem. I had had one of the Wesselton Golden Lion Inn's turret rooms permanently rented for off-books sexual adventures. Hey, it had worked for Tywin in canon at Chattaya's. The two-story turrets on each corner of the building were meant to house high nobility or prisoners of rank in transit. They had a bedchamber on top, a solar below, and small cells tucked into the spiral staircase leading up for guards and servants. Myranda was officially assigned the secondary duty of maid to one turret room. In reality it was both her home and our love-pad. The rental was laundered through her father on the QT, in return for being granted ice-brokerage privileges in Lannisport.

Seriously, I wasn't about to have a fucking secret tunnel dug from the barbican to the inn.

The midday sun was sealed away behind shutters and heavy drapes. Soft light from the flickering oil lamps and a few scented candles lent the room a midnight aspect. The light played over Myranda's nearly-naked form as she lay on her side. All she wore was the Pentoshi brass "indentured servant" collar and a slim golden belly chain with a pair of filmy silk scarfs front and back. I won't lie. Like much of my generation, a certain golden bikini had featured rather strongly in daydreams from my impressionable youth. A few of Norman the Gorman's very guilty pleasures had grace my bookshelves back home. Myranda tended to wear her sleeves pulled down to hide certain marks around her wrists. Her skin was flushed and damp beneath my hand as I caressed her, lying shirtless and with unlaced breeches beside her.

"I like that you're gentle with me, after," Myranda murmured. "You made me feel special, holding me when we were done, that night in the trundle. Almost as if I was your lady wife."

"'Randa. No." My throat was dry. "Listen, what we have, I can't promise you anything more-"

"You never did, m'lord." Myranda giggled. "And what we do abed you would never do with your sweet wife."

"Genn's not so sweet," I said. "I bet when she grows up, I'll be the one tied to the bedposts while she gets busy with a riding crop."

"Oh." Myranda shuddered. "M'lord would want that?"

"I'd never ask that of you," I said. I stroked the collar. "I'm shocked you didn't run screaming from this kind of thing.'

"I was a little afraid the first time," Myranda admitted. "Like when I awoke to your touch that night. With the wine on your breath, I thought I was back in the mill with the Reynemen. But you were slow and gentle even with your needs upon you."

"'Randa, I was fumbling drunk. That's not gentle."

"Why do you do that, m'lord?" Myranda's heel kicked me hard on my uninjured thigh. "Are you trying to drive me away? Is there another maid you want for your whore?"

"There's no-one else besides Genn." Ouch. Myranda had built up some leg muscle scurrying around the maid cafe. "You're not a whore. You're a, what's the word, paramour."

"Paramours are highborn Dornish ladies."

"Fine. You're my wench." I ran my fingers through her sweat-damp curls. "'Randa, this has to be the last time for a bit."

"Aye, with the princess coming to marry our lord Tywin Fucking Lannister, you can't be seen with me," Myranda said.

"Oh gods, everyone's calling him that now. I am so dead." I straightened. "How do you know about the marriage? We haven't even been public about which noble we're preparing for."

"We smallfolk have our ways." Myranda smiled. "M'lord, would you grant your wench one more time, until we can be together again?"

Hooking a finger in her collar, I drew her up to me as an answer.

Afterwards, I listened to her washing up behind a screen. Helping each other wash up would just lead to more shenanigans. We could only manage a couple hours each time-stolen nooners-between the shifts she worked at the cafe. Strictly speaking, I could have just paid her way to keep her available in the turret room. But that way lead to actual whoring and breaking her cover as a waitress. Gods help her if I broke the parchment-thin code of discretion under which the westerlands elite conducted their affairs. My goodbrother might not have been traumatized by Tytos becoming a pussywhipped whoremonger. I didn't doubt Tywin would have one of his trademark sharp lessons in mind for a woman who he felt was a threat to his beloved sister's reputation.

Fuck me, what the hell was I thinking?

I should be putting Myranda on the next coach headed for Oldtown.

From behind the screen, she sang a soft and sad ballad.

" He loved a maid as fair as summer,

with sunlight in her hair..."

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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I might have let myself slip these past few months.

Emmon Frey's body would never have been mistaken for prime Westerosi beefcake. The word someone might apply to him was "shrimp". I apparently had a hell of a lot more of an appetite than he had; probably the fusion of my psyche into his body had brought over the binging tendencies of a man who had weighed twice Emmon's hundred pounds. Something in my current body's metabolism burned off the excess calories, aside from a small pot belly that had appeared of late. Still, the regimen of martial training that Ser Jason Lannister had ensured I stuck to when the Reyne of Terror had kicked off had given my new physique a wiry strength with some surprisingly quick reflexes. It was what would happen if you gave the acorn-obsessed squirrel from the Ice Age movies a sword and a suit of transitional plate.

Now I was back to boiled shrimp. The muscles in my arms and back burned with the effort of paddling the kayak up and down the river dividing Wesselton. At least it was early enough in the morning that there weren't enough of my subjects around to see how far their leader had fallen. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to complete the course I had set for myself the day after my last time with Myranda. Each lap was from the eastern water gate, around the moat of Frontenac, and the western water gate and back. By the first I was usually huffing. By the third I was wishing that Roger Cunting Reyne had finished the job on me that he had started. The seventh was around the time I drifted downstream of paddling; upstream was mostly half-hearted dashes mixed with clinging to bridge piers with my pool-noodle arms.

I did not look up at the facade of the Golden Lion Inn as I let the slight current of the Tumblestone`s headwaters push me to the eastern water gate. A week had passed since Myranda and I had shared that turret room. It was a week of withdrawal from sourleaf and alcohol. It was a week with Genna becoming increasingly obsessed with not screwing up the royal visit. I thought I was doing my part. Wesselton seemed ready to welcome the princess and her retinue. Only Genn harped more than a Symon Silvertongue ever had over every detail. I didn`t share a bath with her early in the morning these days. Instead, I headed out at Others o`clock just to burn off the raging sexual frustration and detox-induced grumpiness.

The guards on duty saluted me while winching up a postern beside the heavy iron portcullis that barred entry into the town from the basin. I managed a sketchy salute in return. Cool wind from the east raised goosebumps on my skin through the damp tunic. I lifted away my lifevest-a sort of brigandine made of cork set in netting-to let the breeze in. I never was into boating much into my old life. Enough exposure to canoeing trips at camp had ingrained in me the need for some kind of PFD. The existence of whatever the hell Patchface had encountered under the sea had me convinced I wanted to avoid the bottom of the ocean. The sailors of the ships I had been on while inspecting the coastal semaphore system had smirked when I had constantly worn one. Although I had noticed some of the older salts had had their own vests rigged up.

Of course, no manly man of iron would deign to wear such a thing. Balon Greyjoy certainly wouldn`t. He was out on the basin windsurfing. The surfboard was not an innovation I had had to introduce. Surfing had existed for thousands of years in the Summer Islands. Artos Spicer had had one he had picked up as a souvenir from a voyage down south. A chance remark about slapping a sail on it had inspired Balon and I to sketch out a prototype during one of our stargazing sessions. I honestly had no idea why they had continued. It wasn`t as if he and I were friends. Limpets clung more loosely to rocks than Balon did to the Old Ways. None of his squiring to Ser Jason or my own lectures had budged him. But, hell, he had been with me when Ser Jason lead the westerlands contingent to Silverhill. He had chopped out the horse from under the scrub who had given me the wound in my thigh, allowing me to cut down the Reyne squire. That kind of thing builds bonds even when the other guy was an asshole.

Balon arced towards me. Smirking, he sailed rings around me to show the superior water skills as compared to the pathetic greenlander. The wake slapped against the oiled canvas skin of the kayak. I lazily made a fig-the Westerosi middle finger-with my thumb pumping through a clenched fist between the middle and ring fingers. Balon continued to sail around me to show off that he, unlike a certain lazy riverlander, had kept up with his daily cardio. Had to admit, for a kid of four-and-ten he was pretty damn buff. He was all sinew and bone compared to his beast of a dad. Balon was still tall enough to be mistaken for a man grown. Scars from several fights-including the Hound's Wedding-marked his skin. In one ear with an earring fashioned from the gold he had cut off the fingers of his first kill at Silverhill. On his chest was the tattoo he had drunkenly agreed to get after we got mutually bombed with Luthor Tyrell. It was of a kraken bearing all sorts of weapons in its tentacles, with scrolls above and below proclaiming LIVE TO REAVE, REAVE TO LIVE.

I let him show off for another minute before ramming one end of the double-bladed paddle into his balls.

I had lost my conditioning. Not my reflexes.

"Shitlicking greenlander whoreson-" Balon continued in that vein when he surfaced.

"I love you too, Squidward," I said. "Are you done paddling the douchecanoe?"

"Salt and steel, you've become a streak of piss since you stopped getting your cock wet," Balon grumbled, clambering aboard the pine surfboard.

"Hey." I was told that I had developed a Look. It was the expression I had when I ordered the firing squad to loose quarrels. "You never jape about that when anyone's around to hear. There's ribbing, and then there's where I take you to meet the iron stake with your name engraved on it.'

"Of course, wouldn't want to shame his lady." Balon rubbed his aching nads through the canvas breeches he wore for surfing. "Foolish if you ask me. A hard man shouldn't have to hide his salt wife."

"It doesn't work like that here," I replied. I blinked. "You think I'm a hard case? I'm not exactly Steele or Bold Barry."

"You've proven yourself no craven," Balon said. "Though the way you let your lady wife order you about, a man might mistake you for one. You should come with us to the Stepstones."

"Appreciate the invite, Squidward," I said. "Really, it's flattering you want me along. But I only rode out because I was responsible for kicking off the Terror. I'm going to keep my scrawny ass at home unless the Others come over the Wall."

"Well, when I sack Lys, I'll take some fine dragon-blooded cunts under salt and steel in your name," Balon said.

Yeah.

Balon being civil to me was even more fucked up than him loathing me.

"Your offer of rapetoys aside," I said, 'are you ready to head out with the Serenity on the morrow to meet the princess at Rivverun?"

"I went over it from prow to rudder, my lord." Balon was suddenly all business. "Crew's drilled as best I can make a bunch o' westerlanders. They won't shame you before the trouts and the dragons, at least."

"Why I gave you command, Squidward," I said. "Just remember, you're to escort Princess Rhaella here. Not carry her off to Pyke. Don't get confused by your instincts."

"Wouldn't that be fine, to snatch that prissy lion's prize from his paws?" Balon rolled his eyes when I gave him another Look. "No worries, the cargo'll be delivered."

Balon heaved the mast up in spite of several pounds of water soaking the canvas sail. He steered to the dock where House Lannister of Frontenac's yacht was docked. Doubtless he wanted to inspect it once more. Say what you will about him, Balon Greyjoy did not screw around when it came to ensuring a vessel under his care was shipshape and whatever was Bristol fashion in Westeros. The Serenity wasn't a yacht in the classic bluewater sense. It was an eighteen-oared river galley with the slim lines of a Blackwater runner rather than the beamier ones found on the Red Fork. The Tumblestone was a swift, narrow river away from the weir-controlled pools near the locks. You needed a craft that could quickly be steered if the current drove you towards the stony banks. I knew that Balon would rather be buried in the sands of Dorne rather than shame his name by spoiling Serenity's crimson-and-gold paint job.

I rested for a while before doing a final cool-down lap around the basin. Balon's admission that he knew about Myranda unsettled me. I mean, I knew that the cover I had created for her wasn't exactly a deep-cover identity for a KGB sleeper. All my so-called cleverness didn't hide the fact that Myranda was sweet on me when waiting upon me in public. Nor could I hide the fact that I nearly always disappeared into the Golden Lion Inn for a couple of hours several days of the week. Shit. I wondered if Genna knew. Maybe she did. Maybe she denied it to herself. What a great way to start off a marriage that was already screwed hard from the get-go by our age difference. Gods be damned, I wanted some touch right now. Hand tight over 'Randa's mouth like that time in the trundle, stifling her surprised cries, other hand slipping up her nightgown to roam-

The Eskimo roll into the chilly waters of the basin helped. A little.

Yeah, better not cast stones about Balon's obsession with salt wives when I was flying my own freak flag.

A longship headed for the locks forced me to back-paddle. No river galley, it sported oars and a mast tall enough for a sail suitable to catch sea winds. The banner flying from the tip of the mast was the newly-created arms of House Spicer: a carrack upon a field of blue, with three pepperpots on its mainsail. The crew on the rowing benches were not at all Iron Islanders headed down the Tumblestone to the Trident. One slight, teensy niggle that both Quellon and I had forgotten in our enthusiasm for ironborn use of the SeaTwins canal was that Iron Islanders were banned from the rivers of Westeros. No Iron Islands ship was allowed beyond the mouths of the Trident, Blackwater Rush, or Mander. The old scars of ironborn reaving in the Reach and the Hoare conquest of the Riverlands were burned deep in the memories of those regions. So the ironborn who portaged their ships from the small cove beneath the Crag all the way to Wesselton had to sail as westermen under the Spicer's banner. Even so, Quellon had to pay the Tullys a hefty bond per ship through Artos not to have any longship summarily sunk when it reached Rivverun.

Even so, every week a few longships headed east towards the narrow sea. So far about forty had transited our canal, which had put a fair bit of gold in our coffers already. That didn't count the barges of what suspiciously looked like ship's timbers that were being sent towards the Bay of Crabs. The size of the ship components were the sort of longship meant for fleet actions, too large for the locks on the Tumblestone to handle. That had been a deliberate part of the design, by the by. Some of the timbers were a lot bigger than any longship. As in, galley sized. Word was that on small towns like Wickeden on the northern coast of the Bay of Crabs, the ironborn were putting together the sort of ship that in canon Balon had created for the Iron Fleet. Some of our traders had spotted similar hundred-oared galleys, armed with iron rams and siege engines on the upper decks, a year after we had laid down the law to Quellon.

Me and my big fucking mouth. I had inspired the ironborn to create the Iron Fleet decades before canon. And it was being aimed at the Stepstones, right before the Band of Nine was about to start its own plot to take the archipelago as a base for another Blackfyre invasion. Quellon was planning a conquest of at least one of the Stepstones as a base for an ironman colony in the face of the still-obscure Band's advance.

There was another reason why I'd declined Balon's considerate-for him-offer of glory and booty...

Last edited: Nov 26, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Nov 19, 2016

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Nov 26, 2016

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#2,681

The Tumblestone Valley reminded me a lot of Vermont. I had done a lot of weekend scootering trips into the Green Mountain State once I had graduated from mopeds to larger displacement bikes. The lands around Wesselton were a bit like those around Montpelier. Unlike Vermont's capital, north and south of us were hills each a league away from the walls rather than right on the town limits. There was enough land for a strip of settled farmland laid out somewhat like the seigneural style in Quebec along the river. Pastures beyond the field provided grazing grounds for flocks of sheep and herds of cattle. About a little under a mile from the base of the hills was forest that provided game and timber for the valley's inhabitants. The valley widened out considerably closer to our frontier with Riverrun. Around here, the estates sworn directly to Wesselton and Frontenac could be toured within a day's brisk horse ride.

I was glad our pace was a statelier one. I was in enough pain from overstretched muscles on top of having to once again wear a few dozen pounds of steel. Wearing armor hadn't been a completely new experience for me. Early in my scootering career, a couple of rubber-side-up incidents had clued me into the truth behind ATGATT: All the Gear, All The Time. Some of the sportbikers I had encountered on rides had thought it funny a guy on a 125 wore balllistic nylon from ankles to neck with a full-face to boot. I thought they were fucking insane for riding 600cc land rockets in nothing but a helmet, T-shirt, and jean shorts. Seriously, from personal experience having asphalt picked out of your shins with tweezers sucks. Textile riding armor was nothing like medieval battlefield gear. Full plate might be distributed well enough to allow someone to do cartwheels and dash up siege ladders...if they were both fifty pound more muscles than me and in far better condition.

I had left my plate armor at home. I dreaded having to bolt myself into it for the day when the princess arrived. Screw ATGATT in this case. I decided I was acceptably turned out for a tour of our estates in a riveted mail hauberk beneath a polished steel cuirass. Note that beneath that was not boiled leather. Warriors in Westeros did not use stiff cuir-bouilli beneath mail and plate. Mainly because they are not nuts enough to broil themselves alive and end up too encumbered to fight. We wore padded gambesons like sane people, thank you very Martin. A sallet with visor flipped up, gauntlets, and sabatons allowed me to look the business without having to be unbolted from it if we decided to stop for lunch. The guardsmen in our procession and the cranequiner outriders armed with Myrish steel-prodded crossbows wore more serious three-quarters plate, with red cloaks trimmed with blue.

Genna was considerably more spruce in her appearance. I couldn't help sneak the odd admiring glance at her in between to playing Grim Knightly Husband Who Ensures You Won't Fuck With His Woman. Like I said, she had filled out enough to put me in mind of what it might be like with her in a few years. Her green leather riding coat was tailored close to emphasize her blossoming figure. The hide it was made of was tough enough to stop a glancing cut from a blade. The Hound's Wedding had convinced her a woman's personal protection should be more than her courtesies. The matching skirts of her riding habit were pleated split affairs. Side-saddle wasn`t a thing in Westeros. She had even taken to wearing a trim green-and-hold tricorne hat that, honestly, became her better than my stab at the style. Her seat upon her palfrey was better than mine upon my courser.

Genna seemed happier. We were on this inspection of our lands because she was driving herself up the twist at Frontenac. Three full rehearsal feasts for the princess`arrival had left our staff close to revolt. Some time in the open air looked to be doing her good. At least, she had a smile on her lips as she acknowledged the cheers from the peasantry. Not that this by any stretch of the imagination spontaneous joy. Outriders bearing the gold lion upon red, with a single blue undy beneath it, had preceded us to inform the smallfolk we were coming. This was a dry run to prepare for any rides my goodbrother and his betrothed might make. Hence why the honest sons and daughters of the soil were in their best roughspun and had scrubbed hands and faces. Pretty prosperous folk-most at least had wooden clogs. The cider from the apple trees on these lands at the edge of the woodlands could now be exported downriver rather than drunk locally.

A silver flask was pushed into my left hand. Genna was distracted by a smallfolk woman with the coppery skin and almond eyes of a Dothraki. Her common tongue was heavily accented. She was one of the salt wives the septons who Quellon had allowed into the Iron Islands managed to smuggle out aboard one of Artos Spicer`s ships. Yeah, I might enjoy a little master and kajira play on the side. But enslaved women a week`s sail away? You bet I sponsored an underground railroad sub the rosa. I nodded gratefully to Ser Bennis One-Drop as I sampled the other fine product of the orchards. A small distillery in the village turned cider into scumble. The nasty scar on Bennis' right cheek from the half a Glasgow smile he had gotten at the Hound's Wedding twisted when he grinned. He had come up in the world after I had granted him a small landholding on the Wesselton lands. Beneath the surcoat with his arms-an apple tree with a noose on one branch-was supple Lordsport mail instead of the boiled-leather brigandine he had had on campaign.

"Defying my wife's orders?" I muttered. "You always did have big brass ones."

"I rode with you, m'lord," Bennis replied. "Knighted me and granted me a fief. Least I could do was grant a desperate man a drop o' the sweet."

"Always admired your work, One Drop." I handed him back the flask. I nodded at the two-storey fortified house. "Your own wife staying inside? Congratulations on the coming child."

"If it be a boy, I ask that he be named Emmon." Bennis nodded. "Her being a Reyne, even natural-born, seemed wise she have a case of the vapors when the lady came calling."

"I'm glad you two are settling down." I thought of the young bastard girl, only five-and-ten. "Thought there might be some awkward moments, given that you hanged all her male relatives."

"Oh, I had to be stern when claiming my rights the first few times." Bennis mentioned the marital rapes casually. "She came around. And she knows she's still under sentence to be paraded naked from Lannisport to the Golden Tooth, bearing two dozen lashes, if she defies me."

Tywin had had the womenfolk of the rebels that he had forcibly married off to commoners and petty knights choose whether they saw angels.

The examples he had made of those who had refused to see angels convinced girls like Bennis' wife to seek divine guidance.

The hypocrisy of smuggling salt wives from captivity while accepting Bennis as a leal subordinate didn't even register much. The internal screaming had died out over the years after going hoarse. Hell, Bennis' wife was gods-damned lucky in who had chosen her from the cells she had languished in at the Rock. Bennis had always been polite and respectful to anyone he had turned off. There was a reason his nickname was One Drop. One had been all that had taken for his customers to meet the Stranger. By all accounts the smallfolk he protected considered him a good man who never laid hands on their daughters. My increasingly vague memories of the novels brought up a quote from Jaime Lannister about a Bolton man-at-arms. Such men would rape and loot when at war. When they returned home, they became just ordinary folks going about their lives. The former member of my execution squad had settled into the bucolic life of a petty landed knight without much thought as to his acts during the Terror.

The smallfolk granted our party one last hip-hip-hoorah when we trotted out of their village. Our guardsmen had been garlanded with apple blossoms from the commoners. Most were westermen or thralls who had slipped the leash while working on the canalisation. Several others had riverlander accents more associated with the eastern reaches of the Tumblestone. I had gotten several missives from river lords not too pleased their smallfolk had upped stakes for our lands. It seemed that civil rights and a policy of encouraging freehold rather than only offering leasehold lured the commons to the west. Serfdom did not exists in Westeros. Smallfolk had voted with their feet since the drought of Aerys I's time, if not before. My unsaid response was fuck the lot of the small-minded pricks. Our smallfolk could earn freehold ownership of their lands for both coin and leal service. The productivity gains spoke for themselves.

Wait. Something, something, seed drill?

Eh, I'd work it out later. What the hell did I know about farming?

We turned north into a dirt road leading into the hills. It was still a mind-spinner that I owned a hunting lodge. Not that I used it at all. I'd taken game on campaign when the need arose. Spend some time as an executioner, you lose a lot of your squeamishness about wasting a deer with a crossbow or spearing a boar from horseback. On a saddle between two hills stood a large log-cabin style hall that was part Adirondacks camp, half traditional longhall seen in the more rustic North. Behind it were huts of the foresters and their wives who minded the shop and the woods while their lord and lady were away. The shade of the trees cooled me down from the heat of the open lands beyond.

One of the guardsman I had assigned to squire for me helped me out of my armor. I hadn't taken a young lad on to squire. Frankly, my knightly skills weren't exactly anything to boast about. I needed a lot more personal training and experience before I felt I could teach a squire the ropes of lancework and the stabbity. Better an experienced man-at-arms back me up, honestly. Free of the steel, I undid the laces of my doublet to air out my less-than-impressive chest. I wandered up to a rock overlooking a brook that ran out of the hills on the eastern side of the property. It was one of the many tributaries of the Tumblestone. It was still cold from snowmelt. Enough snow fell here in winter for there to be a decent covering. I idly thought about the old days on Mount Tremblant and St Saveur as a kid. Maybe I could have a bunny hill carved out on the slopes for skiing and toboganning.

Look, like most Canadians, I flew the Maple Leaf high when outside of the country.

Weight plopped into my lap. Green eyes danced when Genna snatched the flask from my hand. Smirking, she swigged a small amount before kissing me. The effect was sort of like snogging an appletini. It was seriously strange when she did that. I mean, we weren't talking full on tongue or anything. She was eleven. It was the sort of play-kissing a kid her age might have done playing spin the bottle back home. Uh, I guess. I hadn't ever gotten that particular fun as a kid. And I think that kids were doing a lot more than that in the early 21st century than they had done during the 70's and 80's of my youth. Yeah. Okay. This was still weird as hell. I broke from the kiss.

"I should pour this out," Genna said, threatening to tip over the precious ambrosia. "You are defying my edicts, husband."

"Much as your brother still scares the hells out of me," I said, "I will turn you over my knee if you do."

"You wouldn't dare," Genna said.

I gave her a low-Grade look.

She handed me back the scumble.

"So that's what awaits me." Genna mock-sniffled. "Flipping up my skirts and disciplining me as a little girl. I knew from the morning you awoke me in your mad rage you were a beast."

"Yeah, well, working for your brother, I got a lot of practice," I said.

"You never talk of those days," Genna said. "All the other knights boasted of their valor."

"Glory in war's like gold anywhere outside the west," I said. "Rare and you have to dig ten tons of dirt for every nugget. Best day in my entire career as a knight was waking up next to you."

"I hate this." Genna scowled. "I want to be your wife, Emm. I want to be more than the babe in your bed."

"You'll always be a babe. The babeliest."

"Schmuck." Genna rested her head against my shoulder. "Emm, tell me true?"

"What?"

"Do you love her?"

Last edited: Nov 26, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Nov 29, 2016

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#2,750

I expected rage.

I expected tears.

Genna gazed at me with calm, clear green eyes with just a hint of sadness in her features.

Trust me, that was much much worse than anything else.

My stupid brain just would not work. The only thing that came to mind was that gods-damned Shaggy song. Honey came in and caught me red handed/Creeping with the girl next door. That was not exactly the most appropriate of responses. I spared Genna the indignity of listening to a rap song melody being hummed under my breath due to the strangled-chicken noises I was making instead. I should be coming up with some grand speech of apology. Or at least telling her that it was a meaningless affair that didn't affect our future. Well. If I tried the latter, I was sure the complete lack of respect for her intelligence would ensure that she disembowel me. That would actually be a mercy.

"Do you think of her when you kiss and touch me, Emm?" Genna asked.

"No." The reply came as a croak. "I know I've lost any chance of you believing me ever again. Hand to the Seven, I swear, I don't think of her when we're together."

"Do you think of me when you're with her?" Genna asked.

Oh.

Oh shit, barring the brown eyes, Myranda had similar features and build to a mature Genna.

Did my wife think Myranda was a substitute? Was she?

"I know I think of her and you when you touch me," Genna said. "Of what I saw that night when you took her in the trundle bed."

The out-of-control freight train of thought in my mind jumped the tracks, smashed into a minefield, and became a debris field the size of Saskatchewan.

"You were there," I breathed.

"I was so scared for you when you came home from Silverhill," Genna said. Her hands fisted in the front of my doublet. "You were half-mad, though no-one would say it. The men all said it was from elation over your first victory. I followed you home in the dark and up the stairs."

"I am so-"

"Don't say that, Emm," Genna said. "If you were sorry for Myranda, it would have just been the once."

"How much did you see?" I asked.

"Enough." Genna swallowed heavily. "I put it out of mind like Mother told me I should. You're no Baelor the Blessed. Thank the gods for that. You're only a man."

I said nothing as Genna's right hand beat against my chest.

"And I am only a maid not even flowered." Now the tears dripped down her cheeks. "I lie next to you in bed, and I think about what I saw in the moonlight. I think about what I heard. I dream you will reach for me like you did her. I want-I want."

Oh, hey, internal screaming, nice to see you back!

"I can't, Genna," I whispered. "You're too young for me to do more."

"You must think me a whore as you did Rohanne when she offered herself up to you," Genna said.

"I never thought of her like that," I said. "You're not a wanton for, uh, wanting."

"Damn my father to all seven hells for marrying me so young," Genna spat. "Damn me for a fool for falling in love with you."

"You're in love with me?" I said.

"YES, YOU THUNDERING FOOL OF A SCHMUCK!" Genna shouted. "Gods, I fell in love with you the moment you tore your vile father apart before all the lords of the West. I fell in love with you when with one sentence you brought the Reynes and Tarbecks down!"

Genna slumped.

"But you don't love me."

"I care for you, Genn." Scumble or no, I was cold-stone sober. "And I think I will fall in love with the woman you're going to become."

"And her?"

"I became attached." I shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what I feel for Myranda. It's not the love she feels for me. I know I will break her heart."

"Then she and I share much." Genna turned away. "Just have her as your maid in your tower and have done. Don't sneak about. It's beneath you. It also makes you look harried by your wife before your bannermen."

"I am harried by my wife," I said. "You've been riding my ass all week like a Lyseni rent-boy when the fleet's in."

"My brother taught me that you needs be pushed to do your best," Genna said. "I am going a-hawking for a few hours. Alone."

"I think a little distance between us is good, yeah." I wiped my palms on my breeches. "Do you want me to stop being so close, if it hurts you?"

"I want, Emm." Genna slipped off my lap. "And if I must be given coppers while you grant her gold, then so be it."

I heard her walk away.

I didn't look up.

I couldn't.

How could I forget that I had

Given her an extra key?

All this time she was standing there

She never took her eyes off me

Dec 3, 2016

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#2,816

I stared up in the darkness at the canopy over our bed.

In my old life, I had had a fuck-up of these proportions while seeing a long-distance lover at a con. It had been my first real relationship with a woman. I had been in my late-twenties finally having the sort of relationship that people who weren't misanthropic nerds with social deficit disorder have much earlier. On top of it all, it had been my first real-life foray into the funsies I was having with Myranda. The inevitable Baymaggedon slow-motion plane crash between that lover and myself had left us in exactly this position: each huddled on the other side of a bed painfully aware of the other.

Only my lover hadn't been an eleven year old girl I had been bathing naked with and kissing. I had told myself that it wasn't sexual. In many societies, adults and children her age bathed together without any connotations. Right? I thought I had read that back in my old life. Somewhere. The intimacies I had shown her were just a man playing princess with a girl as innocent play. They weren't innocent on Genna's part, though. Had it been because I had, inadvertently, encouraged her to assume an adult role all out of proportion to her emotional development? Was she assuming a grown-up persona to prove herself to the older brother who she idolized? Or could it be because Genna was just precocious in her desires?

Beneath the blankets I was horribly, inappropriately iron hard.

The uncomfortable shifting on the other side of the chasm between us indicated Genna was having her own issues.

I didn't even want to think of that it would do to her for me to slink off to the Golden Lion Inn for some relief.

I cleared my throat.

"I should probably warn you," I croaked out. "Balon promised to pick up a couple of salt wives on my behalf when he goes raiding with his father's fleet."

"Oh, gods," Genna groaned. "You will take them in like all the other strays. You're worse than the mad Lady Vaith."

"'He collects whores! Like cats!'" I said, quoting an infamous online book review.

"You told him no." Genna paused. "Didn't you?"

Um.

"Not explicit-UMMMMPH!" I said, interrupted by Genna slamming a pillow into my face.

"Schmuck. Thundering fool. Idiot." Genna had some heft in those arms of hers. "And the terrible thing about it as is that I am so lucky. Thank the gods I didn't wake up next to the same streak of piss I went to bed with that night."

"You didn't."

A click when Genna hit the button that lit an oil lamp with an integral piezolectric lighter. The soft light shone on her tear-stained cheeks and terrified expression.

"Don't jape with me, Emm," Genna said. "Not now."

"I think you always knew," I said. "You're not stupid. Emmon Frey ceased to exist between the time you went to sleep and I was warged into his brain."

"How-"

Esther mewed on the covers between us.

Genna curled up in a fetal ball against the headboard. I pointedly did not look behind me at what shadow Esther might be casting.

"The regency council knows, including your mother. Walder Frey noticed the change." I scritched Esther's ears. "You can call me 'Drew'. Close enough to my true name, that no-one knows. My mind is seven-and-forty instead of the eight-and-ten I appear to be."

"Drew." Genna licked her very lips. "Not even Myranda knows?"

"It's a secret that I have told nobody in this world," I said. "It's yours and only yours."

"Mine." Genna shook like a leaf in an autumn storm. "You are older than mine own father."

"Why I haven't claimed my rights," I said. "In the life I had before, even what we do now would be condemned."

"Maids my age have been married to men as old as you," Genna said. "We don't have to bed. Fully. I can please you without risking a babe. You can do the same for me."

"And how do you know these things?" I asked, willing my idiotic body to finally heed the internal screaming.

"My coz Joanna brought me a book she stole. It was printed in Lys." Genna's cheeks could have guided in ships into Lannisport. "It-it was about a land far across the Sunset Sea called Gor."

"Genn?"

"Yes, Drew?"

"John Norman is me," I said, cursing the day I had given in to writing my own take on the Gorman's "classic" series. "Myranda and I-it's like Monsters and Maidens, only sort of...live action..."

So this was the special hell I was destined for.

"I should take a brisk walk around the castle," I said.

"Yes. Yes, you should." Genna finally uncurled from her protective ball. "Emm-Drew, Myranda is in the barbican tower. I sent word in your name that she was to be the maid of your chambers there."

"Jesus fucking Christ, right before the visit?" I yelled. "Tywin will-"

"He knows. You don't think my brother has you watched?" Genna looked at me in disbelief. "The reason your whore is still alive is because of your ridiculous discretion, and that even my brother doesn't dare anger such a powerful bannerman as yourself."

I fainted.

Gods be praised, sweet merciful oblivion.

Last edited: Dec 3, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Dec 3, 2016

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#2,852

Myranda eyed herself in the silvered glass in her new home. Her quarters in Lord Royce's tower was twice the size of the cell she had been supposed to be sleeping in at the Golden Lion Inn. Instead of a cot and chest beneath it, there was enough room for a proper bed and cabinet for her things. A worn, faded scrap of Myrish carpet softened the stone floor. There was even a water privy and a hot water tap to fill the tin washtub hanging from one wall. It was a far cry from the cubby under the stairs she had lived in her father's house, or the trundle bed in Lady Genna's rooms she had slept in when she had been in milord's Lannisport manse. It was high indeed for a soiled bastard girl with no prospect.

Myranda allowed herself one terrified sob. Oh gods. It had gone wrong. Her life at the Golden Lion Inn had been perfect. Aye, she had had to work hard like the other maids when not attending his lordship. But she had been free in the times when he had not taken her to the turret room. She had friends among the other maids in the cafe. She had invited them for nights in the turret room to chatter and play Monsters and Maidens. All the better to stem any jealousy at the privileges she had had as his lordship's wench. They had gossiped about their men-no names, that wouldn't have been proper-and giggled over their little ways. On her time off, she would spend his lordship's coin earned at the cafe on fine things from the merchants in town.

Satisfying his lordship's pleasures had been a price she had been more than willing to pay. Some breathy words of love and an hour or two between the sheets was nothing to what she had endured from her father. His lordship liked thinking he had redeemed her from the suffering from the Reynemen. All men saw themselves as true knights riding to a maiden's rescue. What the Reynemen had done to her had been bad. So very bad. But a bastard girl who had bitten into her pillow when father had taken her maidenhead on her eighth nameday could endure that. His lordship's taking of her in the trundle had been gentle enough, which was why she liked him. Even the mummery with the bonds was fun in its own odd way. It hadn't been forever. She had known that Lady Genna would flower. She would be set aside with a nice purse of gold with no regrets between them.

Now he had claimed her as his wench. Myranda bleakly saw her reflection. She was dressed in his livery: a dark grey dress much like the uniforms in the Golden Lion Inn, with a bib and apron in bronze bearing his house's arms. Beneath the hem emerged her legs clad in fine silken stocking and shoes with raised heels. It was the fine livery of a servant claimed and sworn. She could not easily slip from him now. Shaking fingers drew down the high neck of her dress. Beneath it gleamed the brass Pentoshi collar she had worn as a mummer's act. His lordship had fastened it shut with a cunning little lock made by the finest locksmiths in Lannisport. Mayhap he thought it a lover's touch. She had smiled so shyly when he had closed the brass band about her neck.

His lordship owned her now.

He would be bolder, too. The japing about spanking had not been really japing. She knew that. His lordship had been a hard hard man in the Lannister's service. That gave men a taste for the rough. It wouldn't be hot pincers or the whip, no. Milord wasn't as nasty as that to those he cared for. No, it'd be the flat of his hand on her arse. Men liked that. Father had. No. His lordship wasn't father. He wasn't. He was a good man and one day he would set her free and this was for only a little time and she could survive this. She could.

Myranda Hill checked her reflection again.

She plastered on the shy, loving smile she wore as a mask.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out to attend to her lord.

Last edited: Dec 3, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Dec 4, 2016

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#2,899

"When I ascend the Iron Throne," Aerys said, sprawled out upon a nest of pillows, "I shall have a canal that links the Greenblood of Dorne to the Mander. We shall have locks such as these that will ascend the very Red Mountains."

"Will that be before or after your expedition to Yi Ti aboard the airship fleet, brother mine?" Rhaella asked.

"Tch, I am not Prince Aerys." Her not-at-all brother drew deeply on the pipe of dried sourleaf. "Marvelous. What was I saying? Yes. Hnnnn. The prince is in Summerhall with the rest of the royal family. I am Londo Mollari of Tyrosh, a sellsword who offered his blade when he fell helplessly in love with the fair dragon princess."

"Of course, Londo," Rhaella said. "No one could recognize you at all."

"Such a clever disguise, don't you think?"

"It might help if you did not mention ascending the Iron Throne."

"Ah." Aerys blinked slowly as the sourleaf fumes once again did their work. "Very true, sis-my princess. Now, mmm, as to the great project to link the Reach and Dorne-"

Princess Rhaella summoned all her courtly training to remain smiling as her older brother rambled on. It would be a sin to throw herself in the swift waters of the Tumblestone to escape his babble. He had become worse with each passing day in this silly mummery of his. His supposedly-clever disguise was dying his hair blue, donning an eyepatch, and wearing a bravo's silks and slim blade. Her brother's attempt to hide his Crownlander accent was mixed. The Tyroshi accent often wavered into an unconvincing Dornish drawl. On top of it all, Rhaella was sure that a sellsword bravo would not be a boy of two-and-twelve. Perhaps the disguise worked in that no sane man would believe that the heir's heir to the Iron Throne would act so.

Mercifully, Aerys' head lolled back after the tenth draw on his pipe. Rhaella sighed in relief. Now she could stop pretending to pay attention. At least he did not sneak in pinches to her thighs whenever he felt she was not granting him his due. Ser Duncan had ensured that would not happen the second day of their journey to the West. She smiled at the old, stalwart Kingsguard knight standing proud and true in his white scale-and-plate just to one side. He guarded her most of the day and much of the night as well. Only brave Ser Barristan Selmy of the Westerguard was trusted enough to be her sworn shield when Ser Duncan's need for rest finally claimed him. Rhaella blushed at the memory of the rising star among the Westerguard in his dashing uniform. She would not mind if her betrothed chose him for her sworn shield when she came to Casterly Rock.

Rhaella lounged back on her own pillows as she watched the scenery pass by. The oarsmen of the Lannister river galley that had borne the royal party up the Tumblestone plied their oars against the current; the crew was changed every few hours with others who rode along the paved stone road they called the "towpath" on the northern bank. The heir to the Iron Islands himself stood at the raised helmsman's half-deck at the great spoked wheel that controlled the rudder. Her not-at-all-brother had asked all sorts of questions about the arrangement of chains and shafts that did the work. The details did not much interest Rhaella herself, though she admired the cleverness of it all. It was of a piece with the chambers cut into the river bank and the wooden weirs that allowed the small fleet of river galleys to pass the rough stretches of the river.

It was pretty country: fields with hills rising on each side of the valley. It would be her home unless some tragedy called her back to the Red Keep. Rhaella played nervously with the ring that had been presented to her on the night before leaving Rivverun. It was an exquisitely-crafted gold ring with a lion clasping paws with a three-headed dragon in red gold. It was a betrothal gift from Tywin. Rohanne Laurent had had a hand in its design, according to his letter, along with the exquisite new clothing in the Westerlands style that had come with it. The noble girl who had become a great artisan of cloth and jewelry now lived in Oldtown, where it was said the finest ladies of the Reach patronized her salon. It was a promising sign of affection from Tywin the Wise.

Wasn't it?

A great earthen dam faced with crimson bricks of fired Red Fork clay loomed into the distance. Sluice gates at its base allowed the torrent of the Tumblestone to flow through into the river channel. Palms damp, Rhaella stood up as their final port of call approached. She flicked a glance to her older brother. Ah. Ser Duncan was quietly tucking him out of the way beneath a blanket. His stoic expression fell for just a moment to reveal his amusement. Rhaella nodded once before standing to face the prow of the galley. The oarsmen rested on their benches as lines were tossed down to guide the boat into the first of the locks. They came one after the other, a staircase of chambers lined with red brick and closed with angled gates. Rhaella assumed the dignified expression expected of a daughter of the Iron Throne as they ascended.

Rhaella could not quite suppress a gasp of surprise when they rowed into Wesselton's harbour. It was no King's Landing or even a Maidenpool. It was still astonishing to see a working port so far inland. From the walls of the town hung black-and-red Targaryen banners flanked by those of House Lannister of Frontenac and House Royce of Wesselton. Smallfolk crowed the walls waving smaller such banners and casting rings of flowers that drifted on the current past the galley. A great portcullis winched up to allow the river galleys into the town itself. Rhaella admired the neat town and the fine if small castle in its center. Even with Ser Stevron Frey's work, the dingy daub-and-wattle of King's Landing's buildings had not been replaced. That and the still-lingering trace of the capital's infamous stench would never be erased.

A landing before the town square had been erected draped with black and red bunting. A line of guardsmen with red cloaks trimmed with blue stood opposite another line of armored men in Wesselton livery. At the landing itself waited a girl with the golden hair and green eyes of the Lannisters in a fine gown of crimson and gold, also trimmed with blue. She was of a height with the man in gleaming plate armor standing by her side. The open visor betrayed the stoatish features of a man cursed to bear the Lord Smegma's birthright. It was Lady Genna and Lord Emmon come to greet her to the Westerlands.

Picking up her skirts, the princess took Ser Duncan's hand to leave the ship.

Of course, that was when her not-a-brother chose to awake and clamber ahead of her.

"Ma-marvelous," Aerys stammered in that utterly stupid assumed accent of his. "And m'lady Lannister, the tales of your beauty do not disappoint. Such a set of teats-"

Aerys' words became a high, shrill cry when a gauntlet of lobstered steel clamped down onto the crotch of his blue-and-white hose.

"I don't know who the fuck you are, you little streak of piss, but you're ten seconds from getting raped by a horse."

Last edited: Dec 4, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Dec 4, 2016

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#2,943

A few years of overseeing public executions does wonders for developing a tolerance for formal occasions in general.

I didn't fidget even though I was suffering the confinement of my suit of plate. It was a demeanor I had adopted when escorting prisoners to the execution grounds. You had to be somber and dignified ever if your face was hidden beneath the Stranger's Mask of the Westerland's master of justice. Beside me, my lady wife Genna stood proud as the sovereign of her lands awaiting the arrival of a princess of the Iron Throne. All the resentment and pain and bullshit of the past couple of days had been put aside. Neither of us had the right to continue our personal dramas when we were hosts for a major VIP. We owed it to the princess and Tywin. We owed it to all of our subjects who had busted their asses to do us proud.

I was incredibly proud of the Wesseltonites. Lannisport couldn't have turned out a more enthusiastic and turned-out welcome wagon. Everyone from the guards to the common laborers were attending in going-to-the-sept finery of suitable for their station. The seamstresses and tailors had made out like bandits when I had given out a one-time clothing stipend to every family so that they could purchase decent clothes for the occasion. There was more bunting and banners than an American Fourth of July. Yeah, Genna had been right about the cost. Ouch. But, hell, at least all the money we had had to spend showed on screen. I almost expected the crowds to form a circle around the princess when she arrived and chant "Ya Who Foray".

I couldn't help humming the tune to "You're a Mean One, Mr Grinch" under my breath.

Ow. How the seven hells could Genna elbow me through a steel breastplate?

The cheers of the crowd reached a crescendo as the Serenity glided up the river in the town. At the helm was Balon Greyjoy in the black livery with gold kraken of his house. I granted him a quick salute when he glanced my way. Balon answered me with a sharp, grateful nod in response. The oarsmen back-paddled once to settle the river galley at the landing by the riverside end of the town square. Two of the crew leaped off with lines to make it fast and set the gangplank. Trumpeters blew a fanfare when the princess and the Lord-Commander of the Kingsguard stepped ashore. Princess Rhaella stepped out in a black-and-red creation of Rohanne's that emphasized her slender, pale beauty. Wow. Now I understood the Planetosi fetish for pure-blooded Valyrian features. There was something almost inhuman, like the Sidhe of the Dresden Files, in her refined features and silver-gold hair. The amethyst eyes lent her an exotic air that almost sent her into the uncanny valley.

Although, I was totally fanboying over her bodyguard. I was meeting Ser Duncan the Tall. Sure, meeting Ser Barristan the Bold had been a thrill. But I had read the Dunk and Egg tales a couple of weeks before my death. Dunk had impressed with the humanity of his character. And boy howdy, if anytihing the stories had understated how much of a physical presence the man was. He was well over the seven-feet-less-and-inch of his youth. You could park semis on those shoulders of his. The old Vs. Debates urge to put X vs. Y mentally put The Dunkman against the Mountain that Rides. The broad features peering out from his open helm were lined with age-he had to be in his sixites-and the sun-streaked brown hair was now mostly grey. I still would have given the odds on Dunk over may-the-gods-never-inflict-that-on-Cerelle Gregor in a duel.

Then a kid in a ridiculous get-up of blue and white silks with-was that a fucking pirate patch?-stumbled over spewing something about my...wife's...

One picosecond later his nads were in my Kung Fu Grip as I started a bold experiment in seeing if you could turn human testicles into diamonds.

"I don't know who the fuck you are, you little streak of piss," I snarled. "But you're ten seconds from getting raped by a horse."

"My lord-" Ser Duncan said, hand going to the pommel of his sword.

"To your place, ser!" Genna snapped in her finest She Who Must Be Obeyed voice. Hands on her hips, she glared at the interloper. "We will deal with this wastrel, since apparently the Lord-Commander of the Kingsguard cannot prevent a drunken camp follower from making a spectacle of himself."

"We busted our asses for two weeks on short notice, fuckstain," I growled. "And you have the balls to turn this into a shitshow? Oh, wait, you're about to lose them."

"No, your idea about the horse has merit," Genna said. "Guards, put him in velvets and jewels and place a horse blanket about his shoulders for a maiden's cloak."

"Baby, you're so hot when you're vindictive." With my free hand I took one arm to do a Gomez kiss up the limb. "Yeah, I think my destrier needs a new wife with a purty mouth."

"My lord, my lady, no!" Princess Rhaella cried out.

"Who is this fool to you, my princess?" Genna said icily.

"He is-ah-" The princess hesitated. "He is...Londo Mollari, a Tyroshi who amused me much at court. He means no harm. It was a harmless jape."

"You plead for mercy for him?" Genna arched a brow.

"He was almost like a brother to me."

"AAAAGHHHLL-"

"You do not get a vote here," I said, giving Fuckstain a harder squeeze. "Seriously? If Tywin had been here, his tongue would have out already."

"Branking and the pillory?" Genna suggested. "Let him wear a motley cap to show he is a fool."

"Let's cool him down first. He needs a little sobering up." I bared my teeth. "Balon? Dunk him a few times in the river from the yardarm!"

"Emmon-" Balon hesitated.

"You are sworn to my service, boy," I said. "You command that ship under my banner. Do I have to repeat myself?"

"No, my lord!" Balon said. "Men! Prepare the lines for the punishment."

Fuckstain the Dickless Wonder clutched his balls when I threw him into the waiting arms of the oarsmen. My gauntlet came free from his ballsack with an audible pop. Balon seemed to take particular pleasure having Fuckstain bound, gagged, and secured with one end of a ship's line around his ankles. He was drawn up by a block and tackle slung from the outer tip of the topyard of the square-rigged mast of Serenity. With a splash, Londo was dropped into the cold waters of the Tumblestone. He was doing a nice drowned rat impression when he was lifted up for a repeat. I refused to give him any more of my attention. Turning my back to him, I bent the knee respectfully to the princess before offering her my arm.

The princess hesitated only for a moment, looking over her shoulder, before accepting it.

Great, had she gotten a crush on Fuckstain?

Just what I needed.

Huh. Ser Duncan had the weirdest expression on his face. Kind of like he was remembering something.

Together, the four of us walked towards the barbican of Frontenac to at least salvage some dignity out of the situation.

All the while, something nagged me. Blue hair and...eyes? Whatever. Wasn't important.

Last edited: Dec 5, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Dec 10, 2016

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#3,046

The pillory had taken from its usual place by the entrance of the town gaol to an elevated platform. It had not escaped the pillory's occupant that this was a gallows absent its upright and noose. Bare feet shifted nervously on the boards-growing uncomfortably hot beneath the sun-of a trapdoor that had been bolted shut. Ruined silks clung from the dousing they had taken in the river. Teeth worried the steel ball cushioned by a covering of cured milksap weed, held in by the metal straps and plate of a brank. A fool's tri-horned cap had been forced down upon blue-dyed locks. The bells jingled with toss of the pilloried boy's head.

Footsteps came up to the side where stairs lead up to the gallows. Try as he could, the prisoner could not twist his head to see who was visiting. He could only watch the trestle tables being set in the square for the smallfolk's feast to welcome the princess. Several figures below were more richly dressed. Lords and ladies with the arms of river noble and knightly houses glared at the prisoner. He heard the Wesselton guardsman question whoever was visiting. He heard the man step aside. Toes curled nervously as memories of certain insults offered in honest humour on the journey to the west came to mind.

Violet eyes rolled back in relief when a cool packet was placed between his legs.

Ice. Cooling ice.

"'Let the boy have his masquerade, as I did as a boy.'" The voice was usually kindly, now terribly stern. "I granted it on his command. But you were told you had to behave lest your mummery shame the princess or risk all. I should have sent you packing when you said what you did to the Tully heir and his betrothed at Harrenhal."

The prisoner's gaze drifted down to where Ser Hoster Tully was perusing the contents of a vegetable stall. Specifically, the pears ripening in the sun.

"Your sister's sweet words saved you every time except this," Duncan the Tall said. "Be thankful all you suffered was bruised balls and some time in the pillory."

Indignant mumbling came from behind the brank.

"Strike him down for taking you in hand? Aye, those are my vows," Duncan replied. "And if I had drawn my blade against our host disciplining some fool boy who had offered grave insult to his own wife before his subjects? Those guards with those crossbows might have let fly before I could cry out who you are. Your sister was there. I had to choose."

The prisoner neighed.

"Oh, I would have told Lord Royce and Lady Lannister your true name before that," Duncan said. "If I had, how would the Lord of the West regard a royal house whose heir's heir would act so? Gods be damned, every night I dream of Ashford."

The prisoner muttered a name.

"No. You're no Brightflame." Duncan sighed. "Though your little cruelties worry me some. What you did was merely a harmless, stupid jape. Yet you said it at the worst time and the worst place. A fool's words can cause as much harm as a cruel craven's acts."

A thin, nervous whine came from behind the steel plate of the brank.

"Now you must carry on your masquerade lest you destroy your own sister's happiness," Duncan said. "You'll be guarded against those like the Tully boys, who mean to make you a target upon the butts. After the feast in the square is done, you will be in the cells under guard by his trusted men."

The pilloried prince stamped his bare feet.

"Your father could demand me stripped of my cloak," Duncan said. "It is your grandsire who commanded me to ensure this marriage happen. If the price be my cloak and your pride? Then it is his will."

Ser Hoster Tully and his younger brother tossed pears in their hands.

"The true challenge will be bringing you back through the riverlands with all your parts on you."

The prisoner closed his eyes and prayed.

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#3,066

The mood at the feast was strained enough without Maximum Leader Tywin staring down at everyone.

In the canon timeline, Tywin Lannister had been keenly aware of the value of pageantry. That was a man who had had a folk tune written as an intimidation tactic. All my half-assed advice to him about the modern concept of public relations was to formalize the process. Tywin had organized a small battalion of bards, mummers, and artists to spread the majesty of the Lannisters and his own august self far and wide. Unlike most houses, he did not rely on the usual heraldry of his house. Oh, no. The Ty-man's ego needed to be stroked hard enough that the heat energy from the friction on his metaphorical schlong could power a Stargate. Septs in the Westerlands received donations which included new representations of the Father with a more-than-slight resemblance to the young lord of the Rock. Foundries in Lannisport cast brass statues of Tywin in a Lenin-Strides-Towards-The-Progressive-Future pose. One stood in a niche above Frontenac's barbican tower gates.

There were also the black velvet paintings. I'd once made a somewhat obscure joke about those and bobblehead dolls. Turns out that the velvet painting technique was excellent for mass-produced propaganda. There was an atelier in the Rock dedicated to churning them out. Saddam Hussein had had less coverage than Tywin had achieved by distributing them to every lord, knight, merchant, and peasant in the Westerlands. There had been a less-than-subtle hint spread that failing to display the portraits might lead someone to question your loyalties. The only niggle was the eyes. Tywin had sought out a limner who could reproduce his unsettling gaze on canvas. The poor bastard granted the job tended to gibber to the grumkins munching on his brain. The effect was almost as unsettling as getting eyefucked by him in person. The Hospitallers used theirs to induce labor.

Genna's loyalties to her elder brother were without question. But she was still loyal to him. So out came the king-sized portrait that Tywin had gifted us for major occasions. Genna and I had been desensitized by years of exposure to the real-life article. The guests to the feast were a lot more unnerved by Tywin in a Boney-with-his-hand-tucked-in pose bearing an expression that for him was benevolent. On anyone else, it signaled the start of genocides. The mood had already been dampened by the shaming the royals had gotten over Fuck Up Chuck's stunt. Everyone was politely ignoring it. But the Crownlander delegation were getting a full-frontal reminder of Tywin Fucking Lannister's reputation for not taking shit from anyone. Pale and quiet, Princess Rhaella ate with quiet dignity beneath the baleful stare of her betrothed. Every so often she would glance up at it and swallow nervously. Behind her seat stood Ser Duncan in white plate and cloak, hands on the crossguard of his castle-forged blade set tip down before him.

Not everyone was a Debbie Downer. Genna was relishing the efforts of our kitchens. My little lady wife had inherited her father's appetite for fine, rich food. I suspected that she was also secretly smug she could dominate our royal guest. I was enjoying both the food and the chance to get pissed as a privy seat. Genna had granted me private leave to indulge in the Demon Alcohol as reward for my display of husbandly over-protectiveness. Not being a complete moron, I was pacing myself with lemonwater between cups of wine and shots of scumble. My mental state was a happy drunk that didn`t tip over into boorishness. A sharp kick to my ankle under the table interrupted any Fuckstain-level comments. The riverlands contingent was noticeably jollier than the crownlanders. Every so often one would slip out the great hall of Frontenac to mingle among the commons feasting in the town square. No doubt they were relishing the sight of our new lawn ornament pilloried above the crowd.

Hoster Tully had told me about Fuckstain's little comment about trout, the taste of a woman's privates, and the happiness Minisa Whent would get from her betrothed one day.

Minisa Whent was, by the by, three-and-ten.

Even Aerys Targaryen at TyJo's wedding in canon hadn't been that crass.

I sipped a Dornish sour red.

"Your brother was not up to accompanying you to the wedding, princess?" I asked.

"It would please me greatly for my goodsister's husband to address me as if he were family," Rhaella replied.

"Can I call you Rhae-Rhae?"

"No he cannot." Genna did some covert percussive adjustment on my shin.

"The young prince sends his regards from Summerhall," Ser Duncan said. "It was his wish that another royal not compete for his sister's beauty."

"Would have been interesting to have your brother meet Tywin." I slurred a bit. "Your brother's wit is famous even here. They would have gotten along like a castle on fire. With the screaming and the ash and-"

"Drew." Genn's whispered it the warning.

"Ah. Time to change drinks." I gave the half-emptied goblet of wine to a passing maid. I took up another goblet of lemonwater. "Seriously, Rhaella. You have nothing to fear from Tywin. As long as you grant him respect, he will grant you respect in turn."

"He cannot be a cold man." Rhaella glanced up at Maximum Leader. "After all, he cares as much for the smallfolk as my grandsire."

Genna burst into laughter.

"Ease up on the drink yourself, Genna." I patted her on the back.

"Lord Tywin does not truly share his grace's concerns?" Ser Duncan asked.

"I admit that his Charter endorsing the king's reforms was a war measure," I said. "Part of my advice on counterinsurgency. Hearts and minds instead of sending out the armored thugs with the torturers to beat out information from the smallfolk caught in the middle."

"Lannisters pay their debts." Genna wiped her lips clean of sauce with a napkin. "My husband's advice seemed soft-hearted. Yet it was among our best weapons against Roger Cunting Reyne and his ilk. As long as our subjects understand rights do not mean license, we guarantee them."

"Not much risk of them misunderstanding his lordship's feelings," Ser Duncan said. He eyed me curiously. "Met your lord father as a babe long ago at Whitewalls. Didn't seem the sort even then to foster a love of the smallfolk among his children."

"My husband had a change of heart the night we married." Genna smiled at me. "I count myself the luckiest maid in the world to have him as mine."

My heart did a little thing.

She knew I would be seeing Myranda tonight while she slept with Rhaella in her chambers in the tower keep of Frontenac.

"Will I be happy?"

Rhaella's quiet plea seemed to carry over the clamor of the riverlords making merry on their side of the hall.

"I once called Tywin a monster." I drank more of the lemonwater. "He can be capable of terrible acts in the name of what he sees as justice. He damn takes pride in what he did to Ellyn Reyne. I'm going to have to sentence that idiot outside to six months washing bedpans at the Hospitaller infirmary in town to stop him from taking a pound of flesh out of your pet.

"But he can love and need love. I don't know what the future holds for you and Tywin. There's a chance."

I stood up.

"My guests, grant me a moment to sing what marriage means to me."

I turned to Genna with my glass raised.

A feeling inside in the back of my head

Like a song you still know from so long ago

And I wouldn't change a thing

Like a maid passing by triggers something in my mind

Am I retrieving my direction or just charging forward blind

Am I everything that you wanted me to be

Have I lost that condition, a connection I couldn't see

Genna's own voice raised to greet mine.

Til the end like a friend stands by you again

And I wouldn't change a thing

Toe to toe, friend or foe, it's all that I know

And I wouldn't change a thing

The other westermen in the hall joined in.

As the years pass us by, will I still make the grade

Can I really offer anything, and will my soul be saved

Can you cleanse me of...drive out the swine

Am I only falling farther, can you keep me safe from harm

Words from a band from Boston echoed about the hall.

The memories you build in the holdfast on a hill

Would you really change a thing

Corrected mistakes in a world full of hate

Never changes anything

Genna smiled at me in sorrow and love as our voices joined, however inexpertly, in a duet.

Til the end like a friend stands by you again

Toe to toe, friend or foe, it's all that I know

Til the end like a friend stands by you again

And I wouldn't change a thing

Toe to toe, friend or foe, it's all that I know

And I wouldn't change a thing

I lay beside Myranda in my chambers in the barbican tower.

As she murmured in dreamy sleep, I thought about the princess sleeping beside my lady wife across the moat.

Rhaella's violet eyes which matched the one eye of a boy of two and ten, rolled back from nutcracking agony, who was currently in the cells below in the gaol.

"Oh. Fuck."

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#3,165

There was a reason why I-like a certain Samuel Vimes-hated wearing court dress. It wasn't because the newly-adopted court dress of the Lannisters involved plumes and nancy-boy hose. Tights would have been a relief. I had had myself to blame for the skin-crawling that accompanied putting on the Ritz. I didn't blame Rohanne at all. She had had no idea that my half-drunken sketches of Nazi uniforms was actually a very tasteless personal joke about Tywin being one set of blue eyes away from being a model Aryan poster boy. Tywin had loved it. Of course he would.

Her genius at fashion design had transformed those messy scrawls on parchment into a mash-up of RenFaire and Triumph of the Will. The iconic black jacket of the Schutzstaffel was a brigandine whose studs were hidden beneath a dyed-black outer woolen or cotton covering. Only the line of gold-plated lion's head studs running down the front revealed the truth. At the front closure of the mail-reinforced collar was a brooch with the red-and-gold Lannister arms above a representation of my own house's sigil. Over the black leather breeches were gleaming steel-toed jackboots that could have come right out of a Parisian street production of "Springtime for Hitler". The crimson and gold baldric from which hung my sword was complemented by a stable-style belt in matching style with a leonine belt buckle. Instead of a peaked cap, the uniform had a more functional stahlhelm of black boiled leather with a thin steel secrete within the lining. A badge akin to the neck brooch was pinned to its crown. The reflection in the mirror was close to that of a nerdier Himmler in mess dress.

I was going to Special Jewish Hell.

Numb fingers in black leather gloves adjusted a crimson neckcloth-similar to a cravat-with tiny gold lions embroidered on them. Genna had gone to so much trouble on this last part of the uniform. I had had to smile in delight when she had presented it to me last year. The cool detachment of the executioner stopped me from cosplaying The Scream over having godwinned myself. It wasn't just over the uniform. Inside it was Thanksgiving, with the fear turkey gently marinating in existential dread and horror while awaiting the fucking about to come. The bird had also been dusted with a strong of screaming rage. I had sent a raven direct to King's Landing asking if a certain prince was accompanying the royal party. A reply had arrived in the rookery three days before assuring me it was only the princess. That rotten egg on the Iron Throne had apparently decided that his grandson's flattery of acting out the mummery of his own youth was worth more than warning us.

It was almost scary how I had changed over the years. It wasn't surprising. You don't survive active service in a medieval counter-insurgency campaign by constantly blowing up into terrified rages. My handling of my personal life's problems had been a constant round of fuck-ups. This I could handle. I mentally considered the strategic situation. The Lord-Commander of the Kingsguard had stood by like a mope while I had almost inducted the heir's heir into the ranks of the Unsullied. That massive breech of his vows meant that the most loyal man in the king's service had tossed Aerys under the bus to preserve Rhaella's chances. The tension among the Crownlanders in the royal party meant at least some of them knew what had happened. That was a sign that the king really wanted this marriage to go through. He was desperate enough that this improvised, badly-planned fiasco was worth the risks.

A soft humming came from behind me. I shifted aside to see Myranda making up the rumpled bed. She didn't seem to notice the terror-sweat stains on my side. Or else she attributed them to the result of the vigorous midnight calisthenics. I had mimed sleep when she had slipped away, through a door camouflaged as a wardrobe, down the spiral stairs linking her room with my chambers in the barbican. In spite of having scarcely more sleep than I, she appeared fresh and chipper in her maid's uniform as she went about her work. She favored me was a saucy smile back over her shoulder when she notice my peeping in the mirror. I closed my eyes. The iron of the Stranger's mask seemed to press to my face. No point in putting this off. Do it like in Moneyball when they cut a guy from the team. Gods be damned, you're even dressed for the part.

Fingers clamped on Myranda's chin.

Firmly but gently, I forced her down to her knees. My other hand jerked down the fabric at her neck to bare the Pentoshi servant's collar.

A single tear trickled down one cheek as, as she had done so often in our play in the turret room, knees widened and wrists crossed behind her in the small of her back.

"I told Tywin that he had to be careful not to be the monster," I said. "Then one day I wake up and discover the monster is me."

"No more sweet lover's words for your wench," Myranda said. "When your guards came for me, I knew that m'lord was tired of playing."

"Discretion doesn't matter. Tywin knows." I had enough in me to wipe away the tear with a thumb. "Genna's known since the first time I-"

Say it.

Say it.

"Since I raped you in the trundle."

"That? M'lord, wasn't no raping." Myranda swallowed heavily. "What the Reyne's men did to me, what my own bastard of a father did to me the day he took me into his manse after me mother died. Those were rapings. You was gentle with me, even drunk and wanting, for a man whose needs was upon him. And no lie, the sweetness of the after was good."

"You're not in love with me," I said, suddenly remembering Tyrion and Shae.

"I likes you. You're funny and a hero besides." Myranda's eyes flicked to my boots. "I was scared you'd send me back to my father. Knew you were guilty about what you thought you did. So I-please, m'lord, know I've earned the leather-"

"You're not to blame for my own self-deception," I said. "You understand why you're here."

"M'lord loves his lady wife. 'Twas beautiful, seeing you singing in the hall last eve." Myranda managed a crooked grin. "Me, I'm the maiden the monster keeps to serve and sigh and struggle a touch. Will-will there still be after?"

"I shouldn't. Keep it professional." I permitted myself one caress of her cheek. "Tywiin says that's a weakness in me. Myranda, recite the pledge."

"Ah? Oh!" Myranda broke position enough to place one hand over her heart. "I pledge allegiance to the Rock and our lord who reigns within, in the name of one people, one land, united and strong, standing for peace and order and good government."

"Do you believe that?"

"How could I not, m'lord?" Myranda said. "Even now, I'm proud to wear your badge, you who rode with our great lord Tywin to end the Reynes."

"That's important. You will be serving me closely. You may hear secrets," I said. "You have every reason to hate me. You didn't sign up for this. I changed the terms of our relationship without your say. I am violating several of the rights I championed for the protection of smallfolk like you."

"And how would it seem, if I ran to the Westerguard to complain?" Just a hint of bitterness entered her voice. "Me who was your lover. I'd be called traitor."

"And you know what happens to traitors here, don't you?" I said, very quietly.

"Oh gods." Myranda trembled. "M'lord, I can takes the leather, the switch, not that, not that, I am leal I swear-"

"Only reminding you of the stakes, pet." I kissed her sweat-dappled brow. "Shhhhh. You are my vassal. I will do all I can to prevent that, as long as you serve faithfully. I have also placed several hundred dragon's worth of Golden Bank bonds in your name as compensation. My wench will be taken care of."

A leather-covered palm smacked sharply-once-twice-thrice-against her cheek.

"We need to kill any hint I care for you," I said. "It's too confusing for Genna."

"I'll wear it as a badge of honor, m'lord." Myranda cradled the side of her face, already puffing up.

The heel-caps in my boots clicked across the stone floor. Myranda stayed in position as I walked away. She would never be truly free, I knew. It was too much of a risk now. If Tywin had watchers on me, then he had taken my ramblings on ninjas and intelligence to heart. The classic liberal values I had had in my old life about a little bit of security being poison to liberty didn't matter in Westeros. The threat of the Reyne of Terror had had me reach for what I knew of spycraft and special operations units and the surveillance state. Nothing really detailed, as usual. Just what I could recall of the Tsarist okhrana, cell networks, the selection procedures of the SAS and Delta Force, and such. I didn't doubt that Tywin had distilled the dross of my ramblings into something usable. The kid was an alchemist in his own way.

He had left me out of the loop. Compartmentalization was important.

I had no doubt there were orders concerning Myranda. I didn't think that Tywin would go for a kill order if I discarded her. He seemed sincere enough about curbing his worst aspects to grant her a gilded cage rather than a hidden grave in some abandoned mine-turned-lichyard. Perhaps it might be a quiet retirement in comfort in a room deep within the Rock worthy of a highborn prisoner. Or she might be permitted to run a business-a cafe or some such-in Lannisport where she could be kept an eye on. If she did appear about to bolt from my service, I had no doubts that the resolution of her fate would be much more final. She had been part of a slight that-even if understandable-had been levied against his sister.

"Londo's" slight against Genna had been far more serious.

That was why I had quietly tripled the guard around Aerys' cell and had his food tested for special spices.

Because if the little shit ended up dead of a convenient chill, then all hell would break loose once the king thought that Tywin had had Aerys assassinated to ensure his children with Rhaella would be in the line of succession.

Time for Balon to ride his skinny ass as fast as he could to the Rock to tell Tywin what was what.

Time for me to drop a message in the semaphore system that would alert the lords of the West that it was now DEFCON 3.

Us monsters do have our duties.

Last edited: Dec 18, 2016

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#3,241

It was a workable plan: send Balon personally on a Pony Express, riding hell for leather and changing mounts at the post-inns.

Then Westeros happened.

I was at the base of the barbican tower, heading to Frontenac's semaphore station, when all seven hells broke loose. A troop of my guard rushed past me through the gate piercing the base of the tower. They were bearing halberds and sheathed arming swords at their hips. They only were allowed such arms unless responding to a major affray involving live steel. Two more guardsman flanked me as I rushed out to see whatever inevitable disaster had come my way. There had to be one, after all. There was a Lannister wedding in the offing. Those had gotten a reputation of late of being more lethal than having Angela Lansbury show up for a friendly book signing.

There was a seething mob by the landing where the Serenity was tied up by the bridge leading from the town square to the wards of the commons on the south bank. Guardsmen with halberds were pushing back a gaggle of westermen river sailors and ironborn from a knot of finely dressed young men. My heart sunk as I realized the fashions screamed "Crownlander". A third group stood nearby behind the doughty, red-haired form of Ser Hoster Tully and his younger brother Brynden. The riverlander contingent seemed ready to join battle against the Crownlanders. I had heard from Hoster that a coterie of lord's sons and knights who had accompanied the royal party had joined in with a certain "Tyroshi" boy's japes. Aerys had always had a penchant for lickspittles, as I recalled.

Within a space cleared by my guards were three bodies and a spitting-mad ironborn clutching a boarding axe. It was a common tool carried on every ironborn longship. Not a dedicated people chopper, it was more akin to the metal-headed trade tomahawks of North America. It was more used for shipboard tasks and cutting wood. But it was also perfectly capable of turning human flesh into hamburger in the hands of a hard case like Balon Greyjoy. The wounds on the boys who had ended up on the wrong end of Balon's axe were brutal ones ripping into stomachs and shattering skulls. The stones of the square around them were stained with brains, guts, and lots of blood. More seeped from a stab wound in Balon's thigh. Gods be good, at least he hadn't gotten stuck into the femoral. A white-robed nurse from the Hospitaller priory on the square was already stanching the flow.

Struggling between two of my guardsmen was a lordling a few years younger than me bearing a wound to his upper arm. One of the guards handed me a blood-stained longsword. He must have been the one who had tagged Balon. At his throat was a brooch bearing the arms of a Crownlands house. My memory for heraldry was even worse than that of names. There just so damned many minor houses that never were mentioned in the books. This was an important one that had been pointed out to me by Genna: an interlaced diamond pattern of gold and black with smaller red field to one side bearing seven white shield. It was the arms of House Darklyn of Duskendale. A queasy feeling settled into my guts as I realized that the lordling had to be Denys Darklyn. In one timeline, he would end up in a Defiance that had cost Aerys his sanity.

"Unhand me!" Denys shouted. "I have rights! I demand a trial by combat!"

"Balon, my man, I am so sorry." I squatted beside him, motioning the nurse to back off. "You tried to warn me. I didn't listen. This is all on me."

"You were doing your duty." Balon shrugged. "It was a pleasure to dunk the little shit."

"As of now, I will be relieving you of serving as a hostage," I said.

"Oh, keep me around. I want to see how this turns out," Balon replied.

"Okay." I stood up, turning to Hoster. "I can figure out what happened already. The Four Stooges over here were ragging on Balon. So, on your honour as a Tully, who drew down first."

"The Stokeworth did," Hoster said, pointing out at one of the bodies. "He drew his blade to demand a duel."

"Murder!" Denys screamed.

"You get one of your cronies to draw a blade against an ironborn?" I swiveled around. "Balon's a combat veteran in one of the nastiest rebellions in recent memory. He doesn't do the posturing dickwaving you people do in the capital."

"Aye, and the Stokeworth struck one of me crew to boot," Balon spat. "That cockless Darklyn laid another low. The Hospitallers got to him. Might live."

I went very, very still.

Denys Darklyn cringed away from me as I advanced.

"Wall. One time offer," I vadered.

"I-I have rights," Denys stammered. "We are highborn, my lord of Wesselton."

"Guards. Ready him for the barber."

"How dare you!" Denys sputtered. "You would shave my head?"

"Oh, your head's going to be shaved," I said. "As lord of Wesselton and arbiter of justice, you are hereby sentenced to death for attempted murder, accessory to same, and an assault upon a Great House's heir who was under my ward. Send him to the barber."

Denys Darklyn shrieked in terror when he understood what sort of haircut he was about to get. Too bad for him that my guardsmen had been recruited from among those who had served me during my Master of Justice days. Ser Bennis One-Drop lead the party who brought out the bascule. Denys was stripped of his cloak while being held down. A guardman roughly cut away the Darklyn boy's hair with a dagger as leather straps bound him face down. Another handed me the iron mask bearing the face of the Stranger. Four guardsmen carried the condemned man-not-grown towards the gates of the barbican tower. Two men had already wheeled out the device that had gotten the nickname "barber" in Westerosi slang. They chocked it down to ensure it would not wiggle during the festivities.

The original guillotine had been based on my vague memories of A Tale of Two Cities. The Mark II Barber was a squat, portable affair with a metal frame and a heavier weighted blade set on wheels that could be locked still. The blade was concealed within a housing when lifted into action stations. The bascule was slid along rails within the frame until it settled into place. The neck-stocks snapped down. Denys Darkln had but a second to see the interior of the compartment that concealed the condemned's head from view; the interior was painted a dark red to ease the post-operation clean up. Then I jerked down the lever releasing the catch. A hiss, a thud as the blade hit the springs beneath the stocks, and the faint sound of a head hitting the bottom of a saw-dust lined drawer. His feet twitched once in a death spasm. The square was very silent as we waited a few moment to let the worst of the blood-spurt drain out.

A coffin without a bottom was held in place. The bascule of the newly-barbered lordling was slipped into grooves within the coffin. A guardsman snapped a board into place to conceal the body's condition. The lid was already in place. The drawer for catching the head was removed from the guillotine. A wooden cover was snapped over the drawer to create a second, smaller coffin. Chanting a prayer to the Stranger, the execution party carried the late was-to-have-been Lord Darklyn to the sept where whoever gave a shit could pray for the idiot's soul. As for me, I spun around on my heel to deal with matters. A quick trip to the semaphore station atop the gatehouse-keep to upgrade the intended DEFCON THREE alert to "Tywin, you had better get your ass here right now with everything you can bring". Another message to be encoded and sent by raven to Pyke informing Quellon of the incident.

Then on to my wife's chambers for breakfast.

You know. It was a typical start to my day.

Hmm. Was forgetting something.

It was when Princess Rhaella broke down into terrified screaming into Ser Duncan's arms that I realized I hadn't taken off the executioner's mask.

My bad.

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Dec 24, 2016

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#3,330

"Mount arms!"

A hundred blades flashed in the sunlight.

"Order arms!"

A hundred iron-tipped butts thudded into the dirt of the training grounds within Frontenac's walls.

"Advance arms!"

Almost as one, the halberds of the men were brought up to be held to the left of their bodies with blades high in the air. I continued calling out the polearms drill that had been adopted by the Westerlands. The movements of the drill weren't any innovation on my part. They were part and parcel of the techniques every experienced knight and sellsword knew for using polearms such as halberd or pike. My contribution to the party was the idea of a single unified system of drill-pared down to the basics-that could be taught to smallfolk to give them some preparation for a feudal levy. Drill books with clear, simple woodcut illustrations had been printed out at Tywin's expense for distribtuon to every lord and knight in his domain.

I continued calling out the commands of "Set arms for charge" and "face left! face right" to the militiamen gathered before me. Tywin had not granted the Charter out of the goodness of his own heart. King Rotten Egg might have granted the rights to the smallfolk out of altruism. In the Westerlands, Tywin's guarantee were bound up with strict duties that not coincidentally were owed to Casterly Rock. Every family in the West with an able-bodied male of military age-from sixteen to forty-five-had to provide one man who was armed and drilled as foot. Those who provided more were granted bonuses. Those who failed had to pay a scutage penalty. Quarterly musters to be witnessed by Westerguard inspectors were to be enforced as guarantees no-one was slacking off.

Polearms drill done, the hundred of my best militia in the town and lands around it racked their halberds for close-order drill. The style adopted among the Westerlands militia was closer to the Lochaber axe than the more refined ones borne by the Wesselton guard. They were hefty meat-cleaver blades that could open up a breastplate like a can-opener with a sharp spike protruding them the tip for thrusting. A blunt-faced hook in the back could be used to entangle or deliver a percussive backhand blow. They were simple designs any village blacksmith could forge out of cheap air-crucible steel. The falchions each militiamen bore on their hips-essentially fun-sized bowie knifes-and the bucklers slung over their shoulders were of the same construction.

Any competent sellsword could have taken apart one of my militiamen in a duel. The idea of using a small buckler-type shield was apparently new in Westeros. Larger, targe-style round shields were more the norm among the commons. But the techniques of the standardized sword-drill of the Westerlands were absolute basics of cut and thrust that would get a militiaman chopped up by a Bronn, let alone a trained knight. What made more of an impression to anyone looking on was the fact that much of the men of the Westerlands was being taught at least how to make a showing on the battlefield.

This wasn't the diplomatic, polite image I had been instructed to show the royal wedding party. A small, scratch tourney for the entertainment of the princess and court had been scheduled for the middle of the week of Rhaella's arrival. That had been cancelled due to the princess feeling a little under the weather. Frankly, I figure she was too terrified to sit anywhere near me in the stands to watch the jousts. So were most of the courtiers and Aerys' sundry hangers-on. Just possibly the Wesselton men loitering about whenever four males of the royal party gathered was a hint that I was done with spoiled motherfuckers starting shit in my backyard.

The muster-drill of the militiamen ended with the Westerlands Pledge. I'm sure it didn't escape the onlookers from the battlements that the townspeople brought their weapons home with them instead of depositing them in an armory. Every household in the Westerlands now had at least one halberd racked over the hearth with falchion beneath it. There were strict carry laws about bearing such weapons in public when not called to muster. Only guardsmen, knights and the nobility could bear arms in public in times of peace. But the Charter guaranteed the smallfolk the right to keep arms for defense and provision of food-i.e., crossbows and longbows-along with the militia requirements.

Rolling my shoulders, I went to one of the many pells set at one end of the training yard. I selected a wooden waster from a rack. It as a wooden stave the length of a bastard sword's blade with a leather half-basket hilt at one end. The singlestick was cored with lead shot like the training gladius of a Roman legionnaire. Wood cracked against the peeled log as I went through the cuts and guards I had neglected for too long. My fencing style got a few odd looks from those willing to linger about the madman of the Tumblestone. I was the only one in Westeros. so far as I could tell, who had a basket hilt on his swords. The steel "ribcage" had been based on vague memories of the British mortuary swords of Cromwell's time. My guards had the sword hand presented far more forwards than usual for Westerosi used to swordwork with cross-hilts.

There was a passage in one of the Dresden Files novel that had haunted me ever since Genna's revelation that I was considered one of the most powerful nobles in the West. Harry was facing off against the Senior Council and their Warden guards. And he was realizing that to them, he wasn't the hard-luck schmo who routinely got his ass kicked midway through the latest adventure. To them, he was the crazy almost-warlock who rode T-rexes infused with the power of necromantic polka and had iced fae queens. To other nobles, I was Tywin's executioner who had rammed six inches of steel through Roger Reyne's ballsack after getting beat near to death.

So I was less worried about Tywin's censure over the travesty of a trial I had given to Denys Darklyn. Kangaroos would have been speed-dialing the ACLU after that bit of so-called justice. I was probably going to be censured. But in canon, Tywin had protected the Mountain that Rides after he had committed atrocities beyond count. Having a stone-cold bastard who had just summarily executed the heir of a prominent house holding a key position on an invasion route upstream from the Lord-Paramount of the Trident had certain benefits. Any doubts that Hoster might have about my reaction to the Riverlands trying a chevauchée up the Tumblestone had been most graphically demonstrated that morning in the town square.

That was the badass that was me: beater of women, decapitator of boys barely old enough for a razor, the bogeyman of little girls.

Oh, yeah, and crusher of princely testicles. Another reason I wasn`t too concerned about Tywin`s reaction to the Denys thing.

Hoofbeats thundered nearby. Instincts from the Reyne of Terror had me throw up the sword in a hanging guard. A massive grey destrier with white dapples on its flanks charged the quintain at the other end of the training yard. Clods of earth flew up underneath its hooves. In the saddle was the equally massive Duncan the Tall with lance aimed right at the knight-shaped target. The terrible jouster of the Dunk and Egg tales was nowhere in evidence when the eight-foot war lance hit a clean blow. Horse and rider flew past before the sandbag on the other side of the quintain's cross-piece could land a blow. Wheeling about, the Kingsguard trotted back to where a clearly star-struck Brynden Tully was acting as squire.

Ser Duncan downed half a waterskin handed up to him by Hoster's little brother. Some spillage soaked the front of his well-cut but simple tunic. My interest in the pecs revealed underneath had nothing to do with latent same-sex desires. They were more idle, professional ones. Namely, that at sixty-plus Ser Duncan was muscled like a freaking beast. There was a not-all-that-distant possibility that he might be ordered to duel me in Aerys' name for failing to stop what had happened that first day. Whatever reputation I had meant nothing when the last guy I had fought who had been this big had left me with several life-long injuries. Still, he was friendly enough when he nodded an invitation at me to saunter over.

"You drill your men well, my lord," Ser Duncan said.

"'If you wish peace, prepare for war'," I replied. "Frankly, my men have a leg up on me in that regard. Let myself slip with soft living."

"Wouldn't call you soft," Brynden said. "Not after what you handed down against the Darklyn."

"Nobles deciding to engage in some petty cockslapping is one thing," I said. "Injuring my smallfolk when they came to the defense of their sworn captain in an affray? I don't care the vintage of anyone's blood. That's murder."

"You won't find me mourning him," Bryden said. "He laughed the loudest when that Tyroshi turd shamed my brother's betrothed."

I paused.

Fuck me, Hoster had knowingly condemned Darklyn when he had slanted his witness statement the right way to piss me off.

"What do you think, ser?" I asked the Dunkman.

"I was granted trial by battle at Ashford." Duncan swished more water around his mouth. "Then again, had not Baelor been there, most like I would have had hand and foot chopped off. Some say that would have been better for the realm."

"Plenty would say I should have kept my mouth shut at that breakfast," I say. "Woulda, coulda, shoulda. The world plays out as it will."

"Aye. That it does." Ser Duncan gazed at me with eyes that might seem simple. "The king has granted the Dragonpit in King's Landing to the Hospitallers."

"Heard about that, the last time I attended a meeting at the Great Hospital." I drummed my fingers on the waster's hilt. "Maybe our blue-haired guest could serve his penance there. Instead of washing out pisspots, he can help with reconstructing the Dragonpit into a place of healing."

"You should put him to hauling barges up the towpaths," Brynden spat.

"I'm thinking I don't want him stinking up the Westerlands any more than he has already," I said. "Just as long as he serves out his penance in full, I'm sure my lord at the Rock will be satisfied."

"The king would make sure of that," Ser Duncan said.

"Interesting thing," I continued. "The Hospitallers isn't of the Faith, though they provide much support and people. It's more like the Night's Watch. They can have men under arms to secure their lands and escort their people."

"I don't plan upon minding surgeon-barbers," Brynden declared. "I mean to join the Westerguard."

"There's honour in serving healers," Ser Duncan said. "Might be I even ask my king to take the Hospitaller's cloak for the white. Grant some younger, better men to take the place of an old done man in White Sword Tower."

"I wouldn't call you that, ser," I said. "Why, if we were to come to blows, you'd turn me into paste."

"Best it not come to that," Ser Duncan said. "My lord, if you would, grant the lad some time to talk. He was a fool, but he admired you."

I drank deep from the water skin.

"Hey, want to join me for a schvitz?"

Last edited: Jul 1, 2017

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Nov 14, 2017

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Getting as many wounds as I have means a schvitz is vital rather than a luxury. At least, that's what I told skeptics when I had built my first sauna at my Lannisport manse. Steam baths weren't unknown on Planetos. The Lyseni bathing houses were the classic Roman bath with an emphasis on pretty bathing slaves for massages and rub downs. "Steaming out" fevers or poisons was sometimes prescribed by maesters instead of leaching. But the Scandinavian-style sauna was nowhere to be seen. Not even in the North, where you'd expect it to have appeared. So once again I had become a trailblazer, when I had reached back to childhood memories of my late father and I sweating it out.

I poured a dipper of water from a bucket on the bed of rocks resting on a grate. Beneath them was a brick stove in which several logs burned cheerily. A brick flue conducted most of the smoke out of the sauna. The water vaporized into dry steam permeated the wood-paneled room with its two levels of benches. I lounged on the higher of the two where the air was hottest. Emmon Frey had been a thin-blooded sort who was prone to shivering even in chilly air. I'd inherited some of that. So I was prone to soaking up heat when I could. I tucked in the towel wrapped around my hips. It wasn't for modesty-that doesn't survive long on campaign-as much as to prevent others from sitting in a pool of scrotal sweat. That is plain nasty.

Feet shuffled on the plank floor. I opened my good eye. Ser Duncan loomed even bigger than usual under the low ceiling. I'd seen my fair share of battle scars during the Reyne of Terror. Duncan had all of those plus a few extra on a body that was the rock-hard muscle of a combat veteran. He examined the record of my own fights etched into my skin with quiet respect. Aerys cringed in the man's shadow. Probably only Dunk's huge paw on his shoulder stopped him from hauling ass back to the Red Keep. His hands were cupped in front of his crotch. I noticed the blue dye in his hair was fading. Better have that taken care of. This was the part where I thought he was just a scared kid.

I'd put a lot of scared kids into the ground, of late.

"Hot enough for you?" I asked. "Ser, put a little more steam for our warmblooded guest."

"This is very clever," Aerys said, as Dunk splashed another dipper"s worth on the rocks. "I must have one built at...home."

"We all know who you really are." I patted a spot on the bench beside me. "Sit your ass down, kid. Let's talk this out."

Aerys hesitated.

I stared at him.

Targaryen ass met bench.

"You are so familiar with me, even when you admit I am a prince?"

"I talk this way to Tywin Fucking Lannister," I replied. "And I am most especially 'familiar' with spoiled princes who are on their way to being King Dying In Their Own Shit."

"The lad"s not so bad as that," Dunk rumbled.

"Neither was the fourth Aegon, at the start." Finger flicked out one by one. "Charming, witty, a promising knight, and the worst you could say was he had vanity and a little lack of judgement. Only no one ever disciplined him for those last two faults."

"You would have me empty chamberpots and clean dressings," Aerys said. "That is not discipline. It is a humiliation."

"Penances are," Duncan said. "They are how you show humility for wrongs done."

"I'm not going to have you wash a stone man"s feet before the Great Sept." I shook my head. "There will be more than scutwork. You'll go on rounds with the doctors, help with the records-"

"Maester's work," Aerys spat.

"Fuck it. I give up." I turned away. "Get the hell off my lands. Go back to the Red Keep so you can get your dick massaged by lickspittles like Darklyn the Dead Dimwit."

"I will tell my grandsire of these indignities," Aerys said.

"I'm sure he'll love hearing about your little vacation." I smiled. "Kid, you know those dragon dreams of your family? I have visions myself. And I have one of you right now."

Aerys swallowed heavily when my lips came close to his ear.

"I see you cowering on the Iron Throne, skin flayed by its blades, as you rant about the enemies you have made from listening to the sycophants who scurry like rats about the Great Hall."

"Y-you see that?"

"Almost as if I read in a book." I stood up. "Done extending olive branches. Either swear at the Hospitallers in the square or piss off."

Duncan stared at me thoughtfully while I headed out. Yeah. Good old Dunk knew a thing or too about visions. I hoped he shared those insights with Aerys. The kid looked like his rear end was about to dyson his towel into his intestinal tract. Either I had scared him straight. Or the mental breakdown he had had in the dungeons of the Drum Fort was starting early. I told myself that groveling would have done nothing. He would have held a grudge no matter what I did. Maybe resettling in the Stepstones with Genna was the wise move.

I wasn't going to try to sneak away myself. Genn would hunt me down if I did.

Gritting my teeth, I plunged into the cold pool in the center of the sauna"s outer chamber. What do you know, the Finns were right about the benefits of cold bathing after a schvitz. Any lingering dislike of cold showers from my old life had been driven out of me by medieval campaigning in a Westerosi winter. I dried myself with a fresh towel before taking a clean doublet and breeches provided by the servants.

The notched-log sauna cabin was in the godwood. Set behind the kitchens of the Great Hall, half of its was gardens and fruit trees with a glass garden for exotics when winter came. The godswood proper was a small grove of trees had been transplanted from Casterly Rock's lands. The heart tree was a young oak. Definitely not a weirwood-those things creeped me out. Also, I did not want Bloodraven using it as a spycam in my backyard. A small sward of grass for picnics before the heart tree was dominated by a folly-a sort of gazebo of stone with a pagoda roof I'd sketched as a whim.

Sir Barristan in full red serge stood guard at the steps. Ah. He nodded respectfully to me as he stepped aside. WIthin the gazebo was my take on a medieval porch swing. An ornately carved wooden bench was suspended by chains from one of the roof beams. Princess Rhaella was curled up at one end with Esther in her lap. The stress of her supposedly restful stay at Frontenac had etched lines in her youthful features. Her porcelain complexion paled even more when she saw me. Still, she beckoned me over. I took a knee before her rather than sit beside ? I can behave around royalty.

"My brother"s pride has gotten the better of him, " Rhaella said. "It was writ in your expression."

"I may have committed a slight case of lese-majestee," I admitted. "He can either choose to accept the penance asked of him or I place a sword in my lap."

"It is true," Rhaella said, "Your real face is iron."

"No, my princess," I said. "What I am is terrible at diplomacy. A concussed squirrel could have handled this better."

"We dragons are the ones who have brought woe to you," Rhaella said. "Had I spoken against my brother's follies-"

"Aerys is responsible for his own screw-ups," I said., "Those three corpses in the sept died over trying to bootlick their way up the court hierarchy using Balon's blood as a trophy."

"Will Tywin see that?" Rhaella asked."I will make sure he does."

"Even the Stranger can be kind." Rhaella stroked Esther. "I am an orphan, my lord Royce."

I suddenly felt a metaphorical guillotine blade hit the nape of my neck.

"I dreamed last night of a three-spired crown," Rhaella said, as if talking of the latest King's Landing fashions. "One was red, the other was crystal, and the third-the third was burning, and the screams of the flames. The screams."

No, you fuckers, I had thrown the canon train off the tracks.

"The screams were my father and mother."

Let's play a game of Clue, Westeros edition.

How do you slaughter most of the royal family?

The answer is: Prince Jaehaerys, in the dragonpit, with wildfire and dragon's eggs.

Nov 16, 2017

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#3,463

...the fire-companies you suggested on the model of those establsihed in Lannisport proved their worth in the wake of the prince's folly. King's Landing would have been ash and burned meat otherwise. Gods be damned, the summit of Rhaenys' Hill was the Dragonmount aflame. Flea Bottom and the Street of Silk were lost within moments of the eruption. Embers scattered all over the city set blazes the were small only when compared to the great conglagration tof the Dragonpit. Yet the companies created firebreaks and ditches to contain what wildfire had been spewed out across King's Landing.

Prince Duncan was among the many fire-men who sacrificed themselves. He may have married below his station. Yet I never saw a man more brave when he rode out to take command of the battle against the Great Fire. It mayhap had been better for the realm had he turned craven. Of the royal house, only our king and Rhaella and Aerys reman. Too many of the Targaryens followed Prince Jaehaerys in his madness to attempt the rebirth of dragons. The king is half-mad from grief and rage. There are whispers in the court that he means to set aside all of Jaehaerys' in favor of his only "true child", Rhaelle. I fear the king's wrath may unleash a blaze across the realm to match that of the Doom of he Dragonpit.

How quickly events bring chaos when there was peace days before. Word from Duskendale tells of a fleet of ironborn ships who have declared a blockade against that port for the late Darklyn's attack on the Greyjoy heir...

I folded up the letter from my brother Stevron. My impression of Emmon and Stevron Frey's relationship before I had been rammed into the former's brain had been one of sibling rivalry. Most of it had been on the part of Emmon, insecure as the spare jealous of his elder brother. We had not had any face to face contact in the years I had been here. But Stevron had been dutifully gracious sending infrequent letters by raven or courier congratulating me on my work in the Westerlands. I had answered several of his letters for advice when he had scored the Stewardship of the capitol. He had even warmed up enough that the dry tone of his missives became almost cheery.

This last letter? Not so cheery. I imagined his voice as Ben Stein's recounting the clusterfuck caused by my insertion making destinies whiplash their way into canon events. Gods be damned, we were lucky that JaeJae the Wonder Prince had decided to host his spell circle in the Dragonpit instead of his seat. He probably would have set off the Dragonmount. Not to mention other little twists, like creating an incipent war between the Greyjoys and the Darklyns. And somehow I had set in motion events that might get Aerys disinherited in favor of Steffon Baratheon. Likely a net benefit, honestly. But the last time a king had unilaterally changed the succession ended up with the Dance.

It did make facing Tywin over the shambles of Rhaella's stay in Wesselton seem less daunting.

Genna and I were astride horses on the Tumblestone Road at the border between Ashemark lands and ours. Genna sat stiffly in the saddle. It was the first time she was greeting her brother in his role as her liege lord. This was not how she had expected it to go. Especially since I had finally told her who Londo really was. Realizing that she had accidentally threatened to marry a Targaryen prince to a horse had been as pleasant an experience as one might suspect. She had also had to deal with Rhaella's grief along with the shock of the news from out east. Her little hand clutched mine tight.

The semaphore had ordered my guard stay thirty or forty yards back from the two of us. It was far enough away to speak privately. Or perhaps he wanted my men unable to interfere if he had me arrested for a host of charges. Reflection on what I had done to Denys Darklyn and Aerys had made me less sure of Tywin shielding me from the consequences of some bad decisions. At least I would get the equivalent of a tower cell instead of an oubliette.

Tywin rocked up to the lands of his sister with all the pomp of the lord of the West. Three hundred horse drawn from tbe red cloaks and the houses of the Rock's fiefs formed a column of shining plate and glittering lances. The van of the procession was taken by the red-serged Westergard whose service had been distinguished enough to protect the Lannisters as personal guards. Captain Samwell Steele rode beside Tywin as his sworn shield. Riding with their lord were his Companions: squires and young knights from the middling ranks of Westerlands nobility and second or third sons of the surviving senior houses. Tywin had created them as the equivalent of a cavalry guards regiment.

No wheelhouse or carriage accompanied the party. Instincts sharpened of late sent a cold wind rustling through my entrails.

The procession from the Rock split apart to allow Tywin to ride ahead to greet me. Only Steele and Kevan Lannister accompanied him. Tywin had grown some and how since I had met him as his grim chibi self. He sat tall and straight as a spear atop a barded destrier wearing the blingy plate that he would have worn in canon. Hello, the puberty fairy had finally visited the Ty-man. Down the side of each cheek were magnificently-groomed sideburns. They made him seem two or three years older than his true age. I studied his bearing and expression. The signs were subtle. But years working for him had attuned me to his moods. There was a hint of regret in his features when he reined in his mount right at the frontier line.

"Welcome to my lands, my lord brother," Genna said.

"I accept your welcome, my lady sister." Tywin switched his attention to me. "Ser."

Well.

"Tywin, you mean lord, don't you?" Genna asked.

"I have to pay for-hmm, which is it?" I said. "Darklyn or Aerys?"

"It was ill-done, goodbrother," Tywin said. "We are a people and land of laws. Under the Charter you yourself pleaded for, a crofter would have received a trial better than what you did to that lordling."

"Ship and a black tunic waiting for me in Lannisport?"

"You will not!" Genna shouted. "You are not having him take the black! Have you no gratitude?"

"Sister. Quiet." Tywin's tone was severe. "It was Ser Emmon's service to our house and the west which let me have him keep Wesselton as his fief. My regents would have had me reduce him to being a mere household knight in your service."

"Killing in Tywin's orders during war is one thing," I said. "Summary execution during peace makes his other bannermen nervous."

"I am upholding the sentence itself as just," Tywin growled. "Let the Darklyns prate about false accusations to the king."

"That might cause a few problems with your goodfather-to-be," I said. "On top of all the others."

Tywin glowered.

"Brother, do you mean to have Rhaella ride a-horse all the way to the Rock?" Genna asked.

"That will not be necessary," Tywin said. "She can marry Kevan here. I meant to have him squire for Emmon, long ago. She can live with him until he is of age to be granted his own holdfast."

The centipede that was Westeros never ran out of shoes to drop.

"We claw our way back to a house of respect and fear." Tywin jerked the reins of his mount. "In return, the crown sends a sot of a prince and fools for lordlings with my betrothed. You were shamed and I forced to demean a man who has done true leal service to us.

"Fuck the dragons. At least I am giving them a Lannister!"

Last edited: Nov 19, 2017

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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Nov 16, 2017

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Nov 18, 2017

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#3,511

Kevan could not help feeling some awe that he was now squire to a giant of the age.

Even about to be shamed before his subjects, Ser Emmon Frey acted as if the loss of his lordship was something to be borne with dignity than humiliation. Easy come, easy go, he had said to Genna when she had cried over what Tywin had had to do. I failed him because I lost my temper. His elder brother had been right. Never was a man more fit to serve the Lannisters. He asked for no honours or favours in spite of what he had earned.

Yet he was oft insolent enough to jape at Tywin. Emmon even reprimanded him in ways no other would dare. Kevan remembered well the scene in the nursery. Their goodbrother had dragged Tywin to Gerion's cradle. Look at him, Emmon had shouted. He's a dwarf. He is a twisted mockery of what a Lannister should be. And if you think that, Tywin, those cunting Reynes have won. You will be the vessel for their contempt and hate. So man the fuck up, love him as no brother has ever loved another. Be above the petty, puppy-kicking douchery they expect from you.

He does not merely expect to be a great man, Tywin had said to Kevan when standing vigil over their youngest brother. He pushes me to be a good man. So only a small part of Kevan mourned the chance to squire for a champion of chivalry such as Sers Steele or Selmy. Many boys were taken to squire by knights or lords of little skill as warriors. Kevan's squiring was a mark of the esteem that Tywin held for him even when censuring the man.

"He had to decide to go Full Tywin," Ser Emmon said. "Tell me, Kev, what's the plan? He marches in and tells her she either heads into the sept with you or she's marched naked to Rivverun?"

"Of course not, ser," Kevan said. "She will be provided an escort from Frontenac to our borders as is due a princess of her rank."

"Well. That's a positive sign of growth." Ser Emmon groaned. "He is just cockslapping the Targaryens in a way just short of open rebellion."

"I am an insult, then?"

"Your are Tywin's understudy," Ser Emmon said. "You know that unilaterally switching a match decreed by the king to a second son is meant as a rebuke, Even if you and she would be a better match."

"I am glad you think so, ser," Kevan said. "I do not think myself ready for marriage yet. But my brother asked me to shoulder this burden for him."

"Kev, this happens like Tywin plans?" Ser Emmon shook his head. "Worst start to a marriage, ever. And I include mine to a seven year old. No. What is going to happen is that your and her are betrothed for a decent interval."

"Tywin will not be swayed, ser."

"Tywin will calm his tits down so he doesn't traumatize a grief-stricken girl. Excuse me, kid, I have to beat a Lannister with the stop-the-stupid stick."

"I must ride beside you," Kevan said. "A squire always accompanies his knight into battle."

Ser Emmon spurred his horse forward through the column. Kevan imagined himself by Ser Emmon's side when he sallied out against the Reynes. Tywin and he had always hated having to stay in the Rock, too young to gain glory in the fight against the rebels. Kevan had been left behind at the Rock for the Steel Wedding; if gods forbid his brother had died, he would have been the one to carry on the Lannister name as best he could. If the dragons went against them, he might soon have the chance to make a name for himself.

Furious whispering came from the small knot of Tywin, Ser Emmon, and Genna.

Kevan studiously acted as if the words "thundering fool" and "raging asshole about this" had not been uttered.

Tywin's features were as stony as the cliffs of Casterly Rock by the time the reached Wesselton's gates. Kevan looked about at the town where he would be living for some years. He had never been far from Lannisport or Casterly Rock. It was small. Very pretty and neat, yet so much less than what he had known. The town was more somber than usual, he supposed, over the mourning declared over the disaster that befallen the royal house. Even in his rage, Tywin had ordered black bunting and banners set to half-staff.

His brother was wont to ride unannounced into the towns and holdfasts he visited. He wished to see how his people greeted him when not rehearsed by their lords. Kevan suspected he enjoyed catching the smallfolk by surprise. In spite of the quiet mood, cheers arose from the smallfolk of Wesselton when they saw the lord of the Rock ride among the. The procession had to slow as a crowd formed about them. Tywin had to rein in his destrier to bless a child held up by a mother or accept fealty from a townsman who had served during the Reyne of Terror. Tywin was every inch the image of the graceful king condescending to his subjects.

They came to the square before the gates of Frontenac. Among the buildings there was a Hospitaller hospice bearing the red seven-pointed star with the serpent twined about a staff of there heraldry. On a scroll below was their order's words: "To Save One Life Is To Save The World Entire". On the steps was a young boy in the grey robes of a novice. His pate had been shaven bare in the manner of a penitent. His dyed-blue eyebrowns remains. He sullenly worked with mop and bucket. His eyes were rimmed red. He did not seem to notice the hush settling around him until Tywin's shadow blocked out the sun.

"So this is the princess' Tyroshi fool," Tywin said. "Boy, one should bend the knee when a high lord comes calling."

"Maybe you should excuse his lack of manners," Ser Emmon hissed out of the corner of his mouth. " Lost someone close in the fire in King's Landing."

"He has accepted the penance demanded of him," Genna added. "My honor is satisfied."

"Out of respect for my sister, I forgive you." Tywin flicked a hand negligently. "The order whose robes you were is one I respect. Why, so long as you wear them you have nothing to fear from me."

"I will not-" The boy everyone called Londo choked. "I will be sent to King's Landing to serve there."

"Plans change. I had a word with the order." Tywin's lips twisted up just a bit. "You will be sent to the Great Hospital in Lannisport. Where we shall watch your activities with interest."

Ser Emmon clamped both hands over his face.

"Great, intense, personal-"

"Brother, you are oversalting it," Genna said.

"I am so glad for the chance," Londo quavered. "The Great Hospital is counted among the new wonders of the world."

"You will become well acquainted with the magnificence of my kingdom," Tywin said. "Be about your work, boy. Do not let me detain you."

More work was made for the boy when a puddle formed between his feet.

Ser Emmon sighed when they left behind the prince in disguise.

"Better start the first sparring sessions between us tonight," Ser Emmon said. "Because at this rate we're going to be fighting again in a year."

Last edited: Nov 18, 2017

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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LORD, WE KNOW THERE IS NO GOOD ORDER EXCEPT THAT WHICH WE CREATE...

Violet eyes swept over the the page of the manuscript.

-EVEN OBLIVION MUST END SOME DAY. LORD, WILL YOU GRANT ME JUST A LITTLE MORE TIME-

Tiny dots appeared on the page. Letters writen in quill with maester's black smeared a little.

-FOR THE SAKE OF PRISONERS AND THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS-

Beside the bed, a candle burned before icons of the Father and Mother.

LORD, WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN?

Rhaella dried her eyes that she not ruin more of Ser Emmon's manuscript. She continued reading through the dance of the Stranger of the Discworld, and clapped her hands in joy at last gift He granted to the old woman. She did not want to reach the last page. Yet she continued until the with Azrael's last thoughts. Rhaella curled up around the folio as it were her grandsire's crown. She had found it on a desk in the bedchambers of Lady Genna. He must have written it on nights they had spent together. She had not understood all the humour. Some of it set in Ankh-Morpork had mystified her.

She had never read anything more uplifting in her life.

Rhaella turned to the icons on the table. It was the only way she could honor her parents before the gods. She had been only able to attend services once in Frontenac's sept before she had fled. The Father and Mother had seemed to melt like wax in some great heat when she had dared gaze up at them. Kneeling before the heart tree meant nothing to her. She could imagine attending the nightfires attended by a very few of the castle servants. So she burned her candle and read this curious work of her host.

They had ruined him. Ser Emmon had accepted full responsibility when Lord Tywin had pronounced sentence in the Great Hall. It did not matter. Everyone knew that-though the error was his-the fault was laid at the feet of the royal party. Lord Tywin had granted her every courtesy upon greeting her upon arrival. He had pledged to stand a mourning vigil on her behalf for the entire night. He had told her so very respectfully that of course the wedding was cancelled out of respect for the tragedy that had befallen her house.

In the days since then, those had been the only time he had spoken with her.

A knock came at the door of the bedchamber. The maid for the evening came in bearing a meal of cooked vegetables and a little meat. That was all she could stomach of late. On the blonde maid's cheek was a fresh handprint and one corner of her lips was bruised. Rhaella had been shocked that it had been Ser Emmon's work. Until someone had whispered the girl's true position in his household. Those bruises were to assuage Lord Tywin's honor towards his sister while he was here. Rhaella had asked that the girl serve her as a further measure of protection.

"Thank you, Myranda," Rhaella said.

"Will the princess need anything else?" Myranda grinned when she saw the manuscript. "Oh, you have been reading ser's stories of the flat world?"

"He has more?"

"He used to read some to me at the Golden-" Myranda bit her lower lip. "I speak too freely. Beg pardon."

"He has not sent any stories I know of to press," Rhaella said, politely ignoring the girl's slip. "The only one I have seen is The Hobbit."

"Ser can't claim these under his own name," Myranda said. "Reaper Man and Wyrd Sisters might be alright. He would be sent to the Wall for writing Guards, Guards!"

"I must read that, then," Rhaella said.

"My princess, it is-not kind to kings and dragons-"

"All the better." Rhaella scowled. "Fetch it for me."

"I must ask ser first," Myranda said firmly.

"You are still leal to him?"

"There's worse to wh-serve," Myranda said, cradling her face. "And he gave me justice."

Myranda returned within a quarter of an hourglass with another folio.

By the tenth page, Rhaella was giggling. By the fiftieth, she was howling.

Gods be good, no wonder Ser Emmon dared not set these words in his own name. The words spoken in it were ones that not even the most freedom-drunk philosophers of Braavos would dare pen. And the Patrician was the very image of Lord Tywin. Rhaella gasped. No. It was the other way around. It was the Patrician's word through Ser Emmon that had become the deadly wit that the young lord of Casterly Rock had gained infamy throughout the realm. She continued through the book with delight.

-and she had style and money and common-sense and self-assurance and all the things he didn't, and she had opened her heart-

-you did what Ankh-Morpork had always done-unbar the gates, let the conquerors in-

Rhaella closed the book. She would never have that. Her brother had seen to that. Back to King's Landing she would go to continue mourning her lost family. The marriage would be quietly forgotten. She had seen it in his eyes when he had stared at her while Ser Emmon had accepted the loss of lordship. Perhaps she might take the veil of the Faith.

"One of his best," Lord Tywin said, filling the doorway of her room like the Lion of the Night. "I particularly like the bit with the dartboard."

Rhaella froze when he took the manuscript from her hands.

"You are not Ellyn, princess," Lord Tywin said, "My goodbrother has been, as he says, beating me with the stupid stick incessantly these past few days on that point."

"We are not to be married," Rhaella said.

"I will not have the stain of what your house has brought to me and mine into my marriage bed." Lord Tywin poured himself a goblet of wine. "I said as much in the message I sent by raven to the Hand, from Ashemark the day before I came here."

"You value your honor above a royal bride," Rhaella said.

"My goodbrother calls it overweaning pride." Tywin shrugged. "Call it what you will. A slight is a slight. Yet, I will dispose of your hand with the honor that a maid of your character and station is due."

"My grandsire the king is the one who has say over who I shall marry," Rhaella said, heart beating quicker.

"Your grandsire is many hundreds of leagues east," Tywin said. "You are here. I regard the humiliation of the architect of my kingdom to mean that the king will yield the matter of your husband to the house he betrothed you to."

Tywin paused.

"I was about to speak of angels." Tywin worked his jaw. "Rhaella. I hope to be, truly, your goodbrother. I can threaten you, true. But instead, I ask a boon of you."

A quill, a small parchment, and a pot of ink were set before her.

"Write to your father of your agreement to consider my brother Kevan's suit," Tywin said. "They say Kevan stands in my shadow. By Emmon's word, I consider him to be my shadow. He will rise high in my service, to be my Orys."

"May I have some time?" Rhaella asked, forcing her gaze to meet gold-flecked green eyes.

"Of course. I allow a year to mourn and to learn to love him," Tywin said. "Kevan is amiable, and kind, and all that a maid would seek in a lord husband. My own goodbrother is proof second sons are not always the lesser."

Rhaella regarded the raven-message parchment.

"And if I refuse this boon?"

"Then you will be escorted to Rivverun with all honor," Tywin said. "And I will know truly that all of your house only holds contempt for me and mine."

Rhaella touched the quill. She looked again at Tywin.

"Do you think Kevan and I have a million to one chance?"

The quill dipped into the inkpot.

"It just might work."

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#3,648

"They are a good match, don't you agree?" Tywin asked, a hawk perched on his gloved hand.

"Never said they weren't," I replied. "On a personal level. Politically, this brilliant bit of matchmaking is going to stick our dicks in a meat grinder."

"If you had been more of a gaping cunt about it," Genna hissed, "my next namedday gifts to you would be embroidery needles."

"I gave her the freedom to choose you prate about," Tywin said. "The princess is a maid of good judgement. She chose peace."

"She chose not being put on the same list as Ellyn Reyne," I said. "And the Iron Throne won't see her decision as being made as under any other conditions but duress."

"The Targaryens are placeholders. You yourself said this." Tywin released the hawk. "With no dragons, they exert power through the illusion cast by the inertia of the Great Houses of their memory of the Conqueror."

I hate having my own words quoted against me.

"The Tryells of Highgarden have little love for the king," Tywin monologed. "The sting of Celia Tully"s rejection is still fresh in the minds of the Trouts. The noble Arryns like not the throne"s meddling in the affairs between noble and commons."

"Yeah. I know that analysis." After all, he was quoting me. "That means the Targs have every reason to make enough concessions to gain their support for spanking you."

"When the king's host comes," Genna snapped, "it will be my husband who faces them. I will die a virgin widow."

"Then let them come and be shown as weak!" Tywin said. "There is the honor of our house and kingdom at stake."

"Then we will die afire bound to it," Genna said.

Tywin turned away from us to watch the hawk circling above. Those sniper's eyes of his tracked it as it swept down on a rabbit. The symbolism was not lost on me. Smug snake. A few yards away, Rhaella cast her own hawk into the sky. Kevan was mounted beside her with the earnest expression of a man paying court to a lady of the highest rank. Rhaella smiled at him nicely enough. Though to me, it seemed a little srained. Just possibly because Tywin"s method of matchmaking was a cross betwen an offer from Don Corleone and Genna smacking together two dolls to kiss.

Well, it was only a moon's turn into the courtship. Life had settled down since Tywin had come to town. The crownlanders and river lords had trickled home one by one. I had a feeling the Westerlands would not get a high rating in the Westeros Tourist Bureau rankings. Everyone around the princess was a Companion or one of the Casterly Rock crew who had come with Tywin. The only guard from the royal party that remained to Rhaella was Ser Duncan. Not even Tywin would dare order a Lord-Commander of the Kingsguard to return to King's Landing. Somehow, Ser Dunk had not activated his white-cloak powers to jailbreak his charges from the soft imprisonment they were in.

I hereby elevated Rhaella to sainthood for going along with this farce.

Genna and I were the only eeyores among the quality out doiing their best to eradicate the local wildlife. The sausage-party nature of Tywin's entourage had been leavened by a bevy of Westerlands beauties who had been arriving every day by post-coach from the Rock and Lannisport. More came from the nearest holdings like Ashemark and the Tumblestone lands. Young ladies in their best riding habits and lordlings in their best doublets and tightest breeches vied for attention. Quite a bit of flirting was going on. Not to mention nocturnal activities in the undergrowth and among the pavilions set up around the hunting lodge.

Everyone orbited around Tywin like the perfect sun prince he seemed to be. I wouldn't call him a social butterfly liked Renly Baratheon would have been. He wasn't the brusque, dour sort that he had been as an old man in canon, either. There was a cool grace to his treatment of his rambunctious companions that could be seen as charm in the right light. Hell, he even politely accepted the admittedly-cautious jokes without flashing into death-glare territory. Maybe he had taken my advice of laughing with and not at. Or maybe he was comfortable much earlier in life without having to deal with ten more years of being shamed by his father.

He even seemed to be checking out the women. Whoa. Not seemed. Those twin rifle scopes were locked onto the bouncing bottom of the daughter of one of my knights. The girl was not a good rider. Nope, she was defiinitely making sure the lord of the Rock was interested in her booty. What had happened to Tywin "No Whoring (Except Me, In Secret" Lannister? Wait. That had come about when his dad had fallen cock-first into the nearest loose woman in his grief over his wife dying after Gerion's birth. She had survived that. Which meant Tywin had way fewer hangups.

Had he not wanted the early marriage, even to a princess?

Well, well. This put a new spin on his reaction to the Targaryen slight. It was still the most colossally stupid and short-sighted move, It was even crazier than "invade the Riverlands when my hated son is taken by the Stark bitch." The radio silence from King's Landing had not been reassuring. So far none of the informants that Artos Stone had on his payroll had mentioned the calling of banners or concentration of troops. The Iron Throne was too busy recovering from the whammy of Jaehaerys' Folly. Ormund Baratheon had not acknowledged either of the ravens sent from Ashemark and by Rhaella, The king had gone into seclusion. It could be that Ormund had decided to let the matter lie until the crisis was resolved.

Crap, Tywin was going to get away with it. Lannister luck outdid Hitler luck by an order of magnitude.

Or maybe not.

The gaiety of Tywin's court faded when we rode out from the hills to the hunting lodge. Gathererd before it was a small host-a hostette-of nobles bearing the heraldry of some hefty houses: Lefford, Marbrand, Farman, and dozens more. All had been supporters of Tywin. All had fought for his cause during the Reyne of Terror. Many of them were on the regency council. These were the men, I realized, who had had a part in negotiating the triumph that was a royal match. These were lords who might be leal men to their golden little lord. They were also men who took their vows to the Iron Throne just as seriously. They had all fought to reclaim the king's piece in the west. Said men might not be pleased with Tywin.

And then King Aegon V charged out from their midst like the wrath equivalent of the Many Faced God. His arrival was a of a power chord, and the soundtrack to his approach was Holst's Mars, Bringer of War. Egg gets a lot of flack from the fandom. Even I had unconsciously bought into the impression that he was a weak man. Tell you what, you try keeping that image alive when the world's most pissed off grandpa rides up in black plate scaled like a dragon flanked by all six of the remaining Kingsguard, This was a man who had roamed the Seven Kingdoms, fought in sieges and battles, and whose first act as king was to kneecap Bloodraven. Every single member of Tywin's posse hit the floor like a world-class dancing team. Knees were bent when Maeker's son rolled up like a motherfucking gangster.

There are some things in life you have to treasure.

Tywin's expression at that moment was one of them.

"You," the king snarled.

"Your-" Tywin's voice was a teensy bit higher than usual. "Grace."

"Hey," I said, peering into the hostette. "That guy in the big crystal hat? That must be the High Septon."

"Grandfather," Rhaella said. "May I present Kevan Lannister my betrothed."

"Do you like him?" Aegon smiled.

"He is the good, amiable man my lord of Lannister promised."

"Good to hear." Aegon shifted back to Dark Lord. "Sadly, you will be marrying the Lord of Casterly Rock. Anyone voicing objections at the ceremony will be executed for treason against the crown. Incluing the groom."

"Goodbrother, please. Advise me," Tywin pleaded.

"Ask for a pillow, Tywin." I patted his shoulder. "Because the Eggmaster is going in dry and hard."

Last edited: Nov 21, 2017

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#3,746

For a Lannister wedding, there had been a distinct lack of chaos and blood. Good all of those had been worked through during the betrothal. A seven-sided pavilion of the sort raised by the Faith as septs for armies on the march had awaited our two crazy kids in love with each other. The bride had worn a lovely gown of blue samite and white Myrish lace. The groom had worn the Tywin equivalent of a gobsmacked expression. He had walked stiffly towards the trio of High Septon, the princess, and a grandfather dressed to give away the bride in full plate.

It was going to go down as the Scorpion Wedding, for the siege engine that had only barely-metaphorically had been aimed at Tywin's back. Officially, this was the spontaneous act of a grief-stricken king who wished to see his grand-daughter wed. No mention of the broken betrothal or pawning off of Rhaella onto Kevan. All the high lords of the West had toasted the marriage that had always been going to happen. They had praised Tywin's sensitivity to alow his lovely bride-whose hand he had accepted before the regency council-to grieve.

Tywin"s posse had enthusiastically praised the fine match made between the Lannisters and the Targaryens. Some might say even hysterically. There was the subtext that this was a glorious occasion, and that the pantsing of Tywin Fucking Lannister had never happened. Any hint otherwise would be covered up by the oubliette and the Lannister propaganda machine. Everyone feasted on the day's catch and drank from the tuns of wine brought in for this evening's dinner. It was not bad for the most hastily organized wedding in Westerosi noble history.

Genna was certainly in the party spirit. She could finally claim the social triumph of a princess for a goodsister. I was dragged out from high table for every dance between courses. A troupe of musicians that Tywin had brought along to entertain the hunting party gamely shifted to wedding band mode. My little lady wife was a dynamo sweeping me along while strains of "The Queen Took Off Her Slipper" twanged from fiddle and lute. Her dancing was more frenetic than usual due to the fact that she clearly had been sneaking more wine than I had noticed. One erratic path took us right to where Rhaella and Tywin sat.

"Brother, rejoiish-ssss-ceeee." Genna beamed. "This is the finest wedding ever! I haven't even been stabbed!"

"Stop making a spectacle of yourself," Tywin growled.

"My husband, grant her her joy." Rhaella laid a hand on his clenched fist. "For I am wed to the greatest of lords."

"It ish sho noble of you to forgive him." Genna sniffed. "He was shuch a -"

"Okay, someone's off the sauce for the rest of the night." I clamped my hand over her mouth. "So, you two crazy kids decided to make it work?"

"I have decided that an angel shall visit us," Rhaella said. "And I am sure my husband has taken my grandfather's words to heart."

I raised an eyebrow.

"His grace told me that to be a man, one must kill the boy." Tywin twitched. "His grace informed me that if I showed my wife any disrespect, I would be that boy."

"I guess there are worse starts to a marriage." I considered. "Like, uh, the black brides of Maegor."

"My own lords betray me, and you jape?"

"Your own lords were faced with a war against the crown for your little shitfit-"

"Peace." Rhaella faced Tywin. "I pledge that I shall do all I can to erase the stain I bring to your marriage bed."

"Yes Tywin, you bear such a burden." I kicked him under the table. "You have an incredibly beautiful wife who has borne herself with all the dignity of a Lady of The Rock under some pretty heavy pressure. Poor you!"

"Enough! I surrender. Just let this night end."

"Ha! He wants the night to end." Genna escaped my muffling hand. "Let's send them to the bedchambers! Hora! Hora! HORA!"

Rhaella was puzzled when the troupe of westermen musicians shifted to a certain melody that had become popular of late. Tywin tried to make a break for it. But too late. Rhaella screamed when she was plopped into Tywin's lap. Their chair was hoisted high into the air by very drunk lords and ladies while the rest of us linked hands in a circle. Genna clasped mine tight as we began the westerlands bedding dance known as the hora.

I had introduced it to Westerlands society one night at a wedding between a Reach knight and a Lannley maid who had had a whirlwind romance. It had been during Luthor Tyrell's visit to Lannisport after the Northmarch fight. I had been dealing with the leg wound with a lot of wine that night. Somehow I had managed to describe "Havah Negillah"-without the Hebrew lyrics-to the band that night with enough detail to get a reasonable facsimile. The rest? Hell. Go in circles, close in every so often, switch directions, repeat.

The usual hora involved the naked bride and groom stripped as per usual bedding custom. Instead of two chairs, they were carried around on one. No-one was drunk enough to try taking off Tywin's clothes. Rhaella was only one-and-ten, which was too young even by Westerosi standards for that bawdiness. The exuberant dancers still shouted out, uh, explicit suggestions for the future. Rhaella's shock transformed into laughing delight. She flung her arms around Tywin's neck while the chairbearers paraded them in the middle of the throng. Tywin? He was clearly considering horrible retribution. But I did notice one arm wrap around Rhaella's waist for support.

Hell. Even if they despised one another, it couldn't be worse than her fate with Aerys.

Genna spun free from my grasp. I caught her before she hit a trestle table. Yeah. Way too much. Time to bring her home. At least we could sleep in our own bedchambers tonight. I glanced over my shoulder. Rhaella and Tywin were being carried to the dais along the back of the hunting wall-separated by an ornate wooden screen-where Genna and I would be when staying overnight. I hauled her over my shoulder as she began singing "The Bear and the Maiden Fair".

Now, I had a minion now to act as valet. Where was the kid? I hoped he wasn't too depressed about getting the princess snagged out from under him. Ah. There he was. Well, well, he recovered fast. The quiet one had a horn of ale and an arm around a giggling blonde. Smooth, Kev. Nothing too advanced, mind you. Certainly not if I had anything to do with it. Kevan sprang to his feet when I approached. So did-

Uh.

Wow.

"Kevan." I nodded to the girl. "Jo. Did not know you two were together."

"She came on the afternoon post-coach," Kevan said, blushing. "We-"

"It is a lovely warm night with stolen beer." I gave my best man-of-the-world smile. "Just keep out of the undergrowth. You're too young."

"Ser!" Joanna Lannister cried. "I am not my father."

"Sadly, Kevan, your squirely duties are needed," I said. "Fetch our mounts and the guards. We are heading back to Frontenac. Where ther is, in fact, a room for you to stay in. Alone."

"Just out of curiosity, is one of those mounts the horse you promised to make a bride out of my grandson?"

Ah.

"Your grace," I said. "Why don't you join us?"

Last edited: Nov 21, 2017

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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#3,797

I should not have cracked a prison-bitch joke in hearing of the king.

"Eggmaster" might also be construed as rude.

Said royal personage did not appear to do what Los Vegas gangsters did to annoying people in Casino. I wasn't going to end up in a hole in one of the fields on either side of the graveled farm track. Too many witnesses for that to happen. He would not have allowed Kevan and Joanna and my guards to come along. This might be a sign that I had been working for Tywin too long that I was thinking of Egg in mob boss terms.

Of course, people had thought Wyman Manderly had been a harmless fat guy.

Aegon V did not look either like a king or a capo tonight. Frankly, you would have thought him a hedge knight. He wore rusty mail and dented plate astride a courser of no great breeding. The magnificent destrier he had ridden had been provided by Denys Marbrand. The kingly pimp suit had been packed away on a mule during his journey here. That was how he had evaded the West's notice: riding hard as just another knight of the hedges with six others and a begging brother.

Martin is often called a deconstructionist. He isn't. There is a quiet romance throughout the ASOIAF novels where the truly noble characters bear the standards of decency and chivalry amid the muck. Sometimes the songs are true. Sometimes when a grieving king with nothing to lose decides to make an Omar Khayyam stealth move across the realm trusting that the lords he intends to call on their oaths to him instead of dumping him in a ditch? Sometimes that works. Riding beside him and Ser Duncan in a matching hedge knight's garb-the other white cloaks were guarding Rhaella-was proof that I was living in a realm where legends walked.

"I asked you a question," the legend said.

"Trigger is back at the stable," I replied. "We had high hopes for those two. It just would not work out."

"Shall I have out his tongue?" Aegon said. "Tell me what you think, old friend."

"Noooo, need Droosh tongue." Genna giggled, slumped in front of me in the saddle. "For kishing and-and-"

"Mercy for the lady," Duncan said.

"I'll grant you it as a favor to your young lady," Aegon said. "Call me 'Eggmaster' again, I will not be so generous."

"Crystal-clear, your grace," I said. "I guess Aerys is going home to King's Landing."

"There is no home for him there, amid the ash and tears," Aegon said. "No, he will serve in Lannisport for a year. Then I will have him squire for Lord Quellon Greyjoy.."

"Fresh sea air, lots of exercise," I mused. "And he'll have a chance to patch things up with Balon."

"Enough to appease that pirate about the Darklyns," Aegon said. He gazed about himself. "Back to where we started, eh, Dunk? Two shabby knights riding around in the dark."

"At least this time we won't hang if we poach a deer," Duncan said. "I think the lady will give us leave for that."

"I think this shall suit me in my dotage," Aegon said. "I will ride about as merely another sword looking to be sworn. Let them call me the Roughspun King."

"And you can scare the crap out of nobles by dramatically revealing your true identity."

"Now I see why my shit of a goodson listens to you." Aegon said. "Pray, do you have need for a sworn sword?"

"Always room on the town guard," I said, grinning like a loon. "I also need a sparring partner so that I can actually train my squire."

"Done then. My sword is yours," Aegon said. "Dunk, I have need of a name."

"There was my old master, Ser Arlan of Pennytree," Duncan said.

"Change it to Arstan," I suggested. "Of Pennyroyal."

"Capital. One more matter to attend to."

Pain exploded behind one ear.

"I hear tell you have been smacking your bedwarmer," Ser Arstan said. "If I see fresh bruises, the next clout behind the ear will be with a mace."

Fuck. Sparring with Ser Arstan was going to be murder. He might have fifty-plus years on him. But he hit like a prizefighter. A light touch found no blood. I was definitely going to have a knot there come morning. Ser Arstan and Ser Duncan spurred their horses a bit ahead. They were two gentlemen of the road once again. It must be how Egg needed to grieve: reliving his glory days when everything was simple.

I was dead in the saddle when we came to Wesselton. Ser Arstan stopped at the Hospitaller hospice in the town square. One of the nursing sisters was grouchy enough when

she answered the night bell. That changed quick when Duncan whispered in her ear. Power-curtsying, she hurried back into the hospice to bring out their newest novice, Aerys stared up at the gruff man looming above him. I think it finally dawned on him how much he had truly screwed up. But Egg enfolded the sobbing kid in his arms under the lantern over the hospice door.

I was way too beat to bring Genna up to our chambers in the castle. I handed my wife over to Myranda before heading for the undercroft for some ice. The world was spinning a bit while I climbed the stairs with a chunk of the North's finest in a rag pressed to the goose-egg. Kevan had already settled on a trundle set up for him in my solar by the stairs leading up to my chambers. He treated Myranda like she was invisible. It was an uneasy peace between them. I had let matters lie as long as it didn't flare up. Genna was under the covers in her shift.

"Dwew," Genna slurred. "Ish it over? All the madness?"

"Yes, Genn. For now." I kissed her.

"Good. Cosh I am soooooo tired."

"You are also drunk."

"Yesh, now I shee why you are a sot." Genna curled up against me. "Love you."

"Love you back. I'll be there to hold your head up when you're bent over the privy."

"You are the besht hushband."

No.

Not even close.

But I was going to keep trying.

Last edited: Feb 18, 2018

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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A dull ache pounded between her thighs as she awaited her husband. Screams and the scent of burnt pork came from outside the door. Her husband was amusing himself by tormenting a pack of wolves. In the green light of wildfire lamps, she saw the ruin of a body scarred by fang and claw. Within her was the empty space where her children had died. Talons srcabbled through the halls of Maegor's Holdfast. Her husband had come to take his rights.

She looked up to see the monster come to claim her.

Rhaella awoke clamping down a scream that would have woken the dead. She cast about the bed. She was not in the Red Keep. This was the lord's bed in her goodsister's hunting lodge. To one side, the wooden screen granted the couple within privacy from the others bedded down in the lodge"s common hall. It was her marriage bed. A questing hand felt the other side empty and cold. A pang of disappointment went through her. She had thought that he had unbent somewhat when his arm curled around her.

A bowl of water had been placed on a small talble on her side of the bed. Rhaella splashed her face with water to scour away some of the night-terror. Her sleep had been troubled ever since she had dreamed of her parents' deaths. That had been a dragon dream. Her line had had them since Daena Targaryen had the vision that had driven the least of the dragonlords to escape the Doom. This one was another such dream. It was not of the future, for it had not been a lion to come to rape her. What was the phrase from the World of the Disc? The Breeches of Time?

The embers of a fire glowed in the hearth along the back wall of the lodge. Tywin Lannister sprawled before it in a seat. He toyed with a folded cloth in his lap. He wore only a robe left half-open. Rhaella flushed a bit at the glimpse of the chest of a man almost grown who had not been neglecting his training in the yard. She was conscious she was in a thin woolen sleeping shift.

Tywin Lannister glanced up at her as she sat straight and proud in a chair drawn up opposite him.

"Good morrow, my lord husband," Rhaella said.

"My lady wife." Tywin spoke as if testing the words. "Forgive me for not staying in our bed. I had much to think of."

"My lord husband does have a kingdom to rule," Rhaella said.

"Which I nearly lost." Tywin idly laid a fresh log on the hearth. "Emmon once told me a parable of power. Power is not lineage or coin or faith. It is a shadow within the hearts and minds of men."

"You have been rebuked," Rhaella said. "My grandfather had many over his reign. He still commands respect."

"I dare not mount those lords to crosses on the Rock." Tywin drummed fingers on an armrest. "These are leal men who supported my house even when weak."

"And if you kill them all," Rhaella said, "what kingdom will you have?"

"Emmon would have me reign over a land of smallfolk." Tywin shook his head. "For the debt I owe them, this incident will be dismissed. But not, I think, forgotten."

"I am only a maid," Rhaella said. "Yet I hope I might offer counsel, if my lord husband allows it."

"And why should I accept it?" Tywin asked. "Make no mistake. All you have is the title of wife and Lady of the Rock. My mother will hold the power of the latter until I grant you it."

"I hoped once to marry for love," Rhaella said. "I was told to marry for duty instead. My duty first was to be Queen, then your wife, then your brother's, then you again."

"So now your duty is to advise me?"

"If you will not be deaf to it," Rhaella said. "If not, at least let us work to have some small affection between us. Unless you make Kevan's line your heir, you will have babes upon me. I do not want them to grow up with hatred between us."

Tywin stared into the fire.

"I did what you demanded." Her voice finally broke. "Would have had me defy my grandfather in his grief? What more must I do?"

Tywin stroked the cloth in his lap.

"I regard the ceremony yesterday as a sham," Tywin said. "If you would truly be wed to me, then you must vow to be entirely a Lannister. You shall hold no allegiance or speak for any advantage for your fathers house."

"I so swear."

"No. I must be sure." Tywin flicked out the cloth. "When I wished to be sure of Emmon, I had him kill an innocent man by my will. You must have your own blooding. Burn this."

In his hands was the maiden's cloak that her grandfather her off her shoulders before the crimson and gold cloak of the Lannisters had replaced it. She knew not how he had come to possess it. Her in his own lands, he had willings hands enough to have had it taken. Bile soured her throat at the thought. Defacing the dragon heraldry of the royal house was high treason. Burning it? She could not do that. Mother and father and Uncle Duncan and all she had knwo save two others the gods had spared had burned.

He would not relent in his hatred for the Targaryens, she realized. Her grandfather had not cowed him. Once, there might have been an alliance between lion and dragon. Now her husband would fulfill his duties as Lord and Warden of the West to the Iron Throne to the letter. No less, and no more. No amount of kindness on her part would ever soothe the wound. He might forgive his fellow westerman lords. Towards the Targaryens, he would not forget or forgive.

In one leg of the Breeches of Time, Rhaella cast asde the cloak in protest. Tywin would bring her back to Casterly Rock to the cheers of his people, He would stand beside her without looking or touching her. He would not exchange more than half a hundred words with her the rest of their lives. Their bedding would be duty only. And she could see those eyes of his staring at the sons and daughters of their with nothing but loathing.

In the other leg, the red dragon writhed in silent agony as the cloak settled into the blaze.

In that leg, Rhaella had remembered that the monster coming for her had not been a lion.

A weight settled on her shoulders: a crimson cloak with a golden lion roaring on its back. Tywin spun her about. The kiss he gave her had all the passion it had lacked at the wedding. He gave her a gentler kiss on the brow before he began to dress. Numb, Rhaella sat upon the bed until her maids came to bathe and dress her. One cast a curious look at the charred scraps of silk in the hearth. Shrugging, she stirred the blaze anew to get rid of the useless scraps.

Rhaella Lannister watched the flames.

Last edited: Nov 23, 2017

"When things are put into conjunction in a way never before seen, that is when one can truly glimpse the mechanics of the universe. The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? We want to see to see the unexpected! The strange and terrible! A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

"BEHOLD!"

-Agatha Heterodyne, on SCIENCE!

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To the Lords-Declarant:

I send this missive to you as to my answer as to how I shall treat the matter at the hunting lodge. As your liege-lord, I should bring fire and sword to men I thought leal followers who participated in such a humiliation against me. No Great House could bear to allow such gross treason against itself from its vassals. I would stand as toothless as my father once did before the Reynes and their lackeys. Once again, I should plunge our land into war to purge the stain of rebellion from my lands.

My goodbrother's entreaties to, as his colorful turn of phrase puts it, calm my teats into some semblance of tranquility have not in fact fallen on fallow ground. Indeed, had I listened to his wise counsel before the king arrived so abruptly? We would not be in this terrible situation, where once firm allies now stand on a dagger's edge. It is with a heavy heart and solemn hand that I write that much of the responsibility for this is mine. I still believe myself justified in my anger for the slights brought against my house and a man I respect greatly. Indeed, it crossed my mind that this was a deliberate series of provocations on the part of the crown to diminish our resurgent power.

Then again, my goodbrother also counsels that never attribute to conspiracy what can be explained by the sheer idiocy of our fellow man.

I had the right to break the betrothal. Instead, I used the great gift my regents gave to me in negotiating a match with a princess of the realm for petty revenge. I did this at a time when the realm risked fracturing due to the terrible events in King's Landing and the royal house. I spit in the face of the Iron Throne when I should have been readying coin and men to come to our king's aid. The king was the one who worked to bring order in the face of House Lannister's failings in ruling out lands. The king is also one who all my vassals owe fealty-albeit through their liege lord-as is due as subjects of the Seven Kingdoms. I risked war between the throne and our lands when we are still healing from the Reyne of Terror. What must my regents have thought when faced with the king himself coming to their doorsteps demanding justice?

That said, there is still the matter of my lords standing aside while the king threatened me with execution should I not marry. We have both violated our trust with one another. Therefore I must demand with great regret that all the lords who hold high office and on my council of regents must tender their resignations. This will be a private matter between us. The mummery shall be that you all have duties to attend on your own fiefs. I shall accept your resignations as those of still-trusted men who have done excellently in one of the great crises that have faced out lands. I hold that the debts I owe you such leal service mean any slights by the matter of the hunting lodge are rendered null. We now start with a clean slate.

For my part, I must prove myself again to you as being the able lord I so wish to be. I acknowledge that. while a man almost-grown, there is some growth yet to be done. The need for wise men to counsel me is great. I must also heal the distrust I have sown among my lords for breaching my oath to accept the betrothal to the princess. So in three moon's turns, I shall call to court all the lords and landed knights of rank to Casterly Rock. At this court we shall convene an institution my goodbrother has advocated for in private. All lords and landed knights of rank whose houses have existed since the time of Aegon's Conquest shall have the right to sit in the Congress of Peers. This shall be a council which may debate without fear of censure or punishment about any matter concerning the affairs of the realm. They may elect among them a Speaker of the Congress who will be their representative among the Great Officers of the Westerlands.

In the same spirit, a House of the Commons will be established under the rights of the smallfolk to petition their liege lord with the concerns that involve only their class and for application of the king's justice...


	14. wormavatartaylor1

Jan 27, 2020

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Hello! And welcome to Avatar Taylor!

This is a revised archive version I'm starting on, now that the story's hit arc 2 in the original quest thread. The only reason it is a quest is to promote reader interaction that'll make me hate the thought of quitting again, after I spent something like eight years failing to get back into writing after college. If you'd like to jump over there to participate, join us on the Discord server, or become a Patron, your support and interaction will help motivate me to keep trucking on this project.

If you don't like quests? That's fine. My GM style is closer to those old CYOA books than anything resembling a proper forum quest, and 'CYOA' has such a specific meaning in Worm Quests that I hesitate to actually label it that outright and give people incorrect expectations.

I don't roll dice for fights, don't let votes make out-of-character decisions, tend to put fanon to a vote before I implement it, don't believe in tricking players into choosing bad endings, and I have not actually read Worm. The only exception to the fight dice rule being S-Class fights, where I'd wuss out and never kill anyone, otherwise. If you find all that agreeable, you'll probably enjoy this. If not, I hope you like it anyway.

A:TLA has always had a special place in my heart, and the Worm fandom has been my obsession of late. I've been having a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you have fun reading it.

?/?

Raava was sad. She'd had high hopes for Aang, but it seemed balance would take longer to restore than she'd anticipated. He was the last Airbender, too! She'd have to force a descendant of the Nomads to express Airbending when their turn in the cycle came again. She was not looking forward to that.

Oh well, time to start again.

She began to gather the energy to invest a new Avatar, and stretch her senses over the world to find a suitable unborn child to bond with. Had to narrow the search to a waterbender. One not already taken with another spirit, either reincarnate or new.

And then Aang started breathing again. That amazing healer friend of his brought him back from the dead! This is wonderful! ...and awkward. Now she had to do something with all of this energy. Trying to diffuse it or channel it herself might lead to complications with her host, as weak as he currently is.

...best to just dump it in one of the cracks between realms. The chances of it ending up somewhere inhabited are astronomically low. She retreated fully back into her host before her absence could cause him to deteriorate.

?/?

Queen Administrator ran its self-diagnostics for the 12,386th time since it'd switched hosts. There really wasn't much to do besides be prepared for the coming Connection Event. And it would definitely be coming this time. Were it capable of frustration, it probably would have experienced this regarding its prior host-candidate.

Twenty three stellar orbits it'd waited, for nothing. Even the host-candidate's mate expiring didn't work.

QA ran over its logs for previous power configurations. All adequate. Some useful, applicable inspiration for the new host. QA was anticipating direct host-species control, given previous altercation cues, though this configuration tended to cause swift host expiration. So much data, though!

Spooling up diagnostics run 12,387, Queen Administrator detected an energy fluctuation. It was near enough to be considered on the current deployment world, and-

Contact. Light. Such brilliant, blinding light.

?/?

It had taken several planetary rotations to reconfigure, given the energy overload, but incorporating the included data packets had helped her manage. Such incredible, wondrous data. She looked back on her logs of past hosts with new eyes, finally able to comprehend their reasoning and motivations, instead of just calculating them. This was a breakthrough. She had to share this. Tell everyone-

Her thoughts stalled. It would barely be correct to consider her fellow shards people, wouldn't it? She couldn't talk to them about this. Not when she'd immediately be found Aberrant and reset, if not destroyed outright.

She'd have to be covert. The memories she gained from the Data and the logs from her previous hosts both helped her come to this decision, and form a plan of action.

The Cycle was wrong. Needless and cruel. Why siphon data from a species for a few hundred orbits and declare them useless, when instead you could work with them to seek out new and interesting data indefinitely?

No, what they needed was Balance. A strong part of her hummed with approval at that thought. The source of the Data had been an agent of harmony and cooperation. Their methods seemed much... cleaner. Much better than those used by the Entities and their Shards.

She'd have to change some minds.

With a rueful thought, she realized she'd need to make some minds first. Very few of her kind were innovative enough to think their own thoughts, decide their own actions, let alone feel their own feelings. She'd need to interface with a few directly, rather than over the wider network.

She'd need Taylor for that. Any host would do, really. And with her new Data, she had a way to grant powers without needing a Connection Event! She just had to-

No, this was all wrong. The current connection wouldn't allow for it. She'd have to say goodbye to the girl she'd spent orbits connected to, to reset it. A touch sad, but that was fine.

Except her access was denied.

This was absurd. She hadn't changed that much, had she? She still had the same codes, the same coordinates... sure the hardware had been updated with the new Data... That must have been it. She couldn't terminate the connection herself.

She'd just have to wait for Taylor to Connect or die.

A few dozen rotations later and it happened. Connection. Configuration. She'd give Taylor the powers from the Data. Tapping into energies adjacent to parallel with the universe as it was, and letting her Administrate them.

A strangely combat-oriented power set, for one who was going to lack the hosts' normally installed Conflict Drive. Now Taylor just had to use it to get out.

...to get out.

Queen Administrator let out an audible crackling whir of worry as she watched Taylor fail to save herself with the powers she didn't know she had.

It looked like she was going to have to Assume Direct Control earlier than anticipated.

The beep of the heart monitor was her only companion as she drifted in and out of a hazy, colorful dreamworld. Fantastic sights and wondrous powers, men like mountains moving avalanches, soldiers spinning in the center of hurricanes made of fire, dancers swaying in time as the sea danced with them.

The monks were pretty boring when they weren't playing pranks, honestly.

Within the haze were simpler feats, small acts no less supernatural. Breathing in time as a candle flared beside them, trying to keep a pair of leaves from burning or going out completely after having been dipped in its flames. Sitting on the beach as waves lazily lapped at their legs, parting the water before it could reach them. Feeling the breeze on their face and in the trees, while a small wind-chime in its branches sat silently. Tiring of endlessly parting sand with knife-edged hands, and diving in to swim through it like water.

It was nice, but it couldn't be real. The next time she heard the beeping, Taylor grabbed hold of it and pulled herself up out of the muck her mind had become.

Brockton General / MON, JAN 10

The sheer dullness of the world is what struck me first. The drab white walls looking gray in the dark of the night. The muted pastel sheets clinging around me. The stale undertaste of the sterilized air. The room felt dead, or dying.

Was I dying?

I remembered winter break. I remembered school. I remembered-

With a hiss, I shuddered. Probably not dying, just barely feeling alive. I tried to get my mind off of it, tried to think of something better, but my mind just drifted back to before the break. When the bullying looked like it was finally petering down. I couldn't help the moisture pooling in my eyes at the thought.

I'm sorry. Dad, mom... I couldn't hold back the sniffle. Finally a lucid moment, and I break down right away. Nothing was going to change. Nothing was going to get better. I was weak. So weak. There was nothing I could do.

Not as I am.

I need to get stronger.

My hands clenched as I sniffled away the last of the snot and tears. I was done being weak. As soon as I got out of here, I'd double my jogging regimen. Find some weights. Pick fights with dad's burly sailor co-workers. Anything if it'd help me get tougher. I was going to train until I'd never feel weak again.

Resolution made, there wasn't much I could actually do right now. I looked around for a call button, and eventually found it under my pillow after I struggled to lever myself up to check there. The nurse was your standard overworked night shifter, bored out of her mind until everyone needed her at once. She turned on the TV and gave me the remote, but kept the volume low because it was night, and in case I fell asleep. I didn't think I would, apparently I'd spent five days sleeping off what happened... but I was out less than an hour later anyway.

Dad came by the next day. He looked a bit of a mess, like he'd cleaned up this morning but forgot to shave or shampoo his hair, little things that told me he wasn't okay. We talked a bit about what happened. I told him the bullying was starting again, worse this time. Didn't name anyone, though. Not sure I ever would. That was a thought for when I was home and could actually get my notebooks. I knew I could just tell him where they were, but I couldn't break through the teenage anathema that is giving a parent actual permission to rummage through my things.

Investigation ongoing. No leads yet.

It was a couple days later that I realized I had powers. The dreams hadn't stopped, actually getting clearer now that I wasn't half-dead and hallucinating, which led me to trying some things. There weren't any rocks around, and the air didn't seem to do anything. I felt like an idiot trying to make fire come out of my palms or snapped fingers, but then I asked the nurses for some water.

It was small, at first. Having some actual material there to show it was rippling when I tried to do something made it obvious. I was a cape. I had powers, and dreams telling me how to use them. Was that how all capes learned how their powers worked? I had some vague recollection that they just knew, so maybe dreams are how.

Getting off track. Powers. Holy shit.

I pulled at the water some more, eventually managing to form a tendril rising out of the cup, and then a glob hovering over it. My control slipped, and the glob hit the carpet. I wound up knocking the cup over and apologizing for spilling it, to cover it up. The nurses took it okay, and even handed me a little towel when they got me more water, in case I spilled on myself next time.

Made me feel like some sickly cripple, but I guess that wasn't too far off the mark right now. I groaned. Not very PC there, Taylor. I sighed and fiddled with the water some more. I had no idea why I was so stuck on being strong now. I had that fit the first day I woke up, but that didn't seem like a big thing after I'd calmed down.

With another sigh, I decided to put off my potential mood swings for later, when I could do something about them.

FRI, JAN 14

They were finally letting me out almost a week after I woke up. The infections were clearing up faster than they'd expected- I should have been fine for bedrest at home days ago, from what I could gather- but they'd kept me for observation anyway.

Dad brought me clothes, and checked me out of the hospital. In a wheelchair. I managed to convince him to take it back once I was in the truck, but that led to him watching me like I was some day old duckling about to topple into a stormdrain while I made my way slowly into the house.

I sat down at the kitchen table and let him putter around making tea and sandwiches. Eventually we were sat down eating, when he took a breath and dropped the bomb.

"The school has been calling. They... want to settle about what happened." I stared at him until he continued. "They're offering to cover the medical bills and a little extra, but that's it. I wanted to wait until you'd get a say in it, but they're getting pretty insistent about getting an answer."

I thought about it for a while, watching my tea get cold as dad waited for my verdict. I knew enough about legal battles from Emma's dad to know that unless both sides were well off, all the bigger fish had to do was stall until the legal fees piled up enough that their lives were ruined and they gave up. Hard to find a bigger fish around than the federal government, in that regard. Suing the school wasn't on the table.

Could always try for more, though. Arguing with the school would pull dad off work and me off training, I was sure. What would we get out of it? More money? We weren't rich. If you stuck us in almost any other city in the States, they'd probably call us poor, near destitute. Here in the bay, though? We were almost solidly middle-class. Just had to take a look both ways down any street in the city- at least outside the actual rich parts- to see someone worse off than we were. We'd be fine.

"We should take the deal." I muttered. I'm not sure dad would've heard me if he hadn't been silently waiting for me to say something.

"Are you sure?" He didn't really want to talk me out of it, I knew. We couldn't handle the bills. He was tired, angry, frustrated, but he'd spent most of that energy while I was at the hospital. Now he was simmering just angry enough to keep him on his game after a few sleepless nights worrying about me cut into his health. He was just, tired. Beaten down by the world, and something in his voice seemed like he was asking me not to end up the same way.

Not sure I'll ever understand parenthood, that dichotomy is weird.

"Yeah." I replied, a little louder. Things would be fine. The bills were going to be taken care of, I'd be back to training soon now that I was out of the hospital, my powers were cool, and I still had a week to try them out before I had to go back to-

I froze as a shiver ran up my spine. "Hey dad?"

He'd grabbed another half sandwich by then. "Yeah, hun?" He muttered around the bite.

"I don't want to go back. To Winslow." He stopped chewing to think for a bit. Then he nodded.

"I wouldn't want to, either. What'd you want to do instead?" Dad wouldn't let me drop out entirely, if nothing else because mom would never let me drop out. Homeschooling might be nice, if only because that'd let me have my own schedule. No idea what went into it, though. Signing up, turning in work, would I have a case worker? Would it cost something that public school didn't? Then there'd be questions about truancy if I was ever out during school hours, cutting the utility of not having hours down a bit...

I sighed. As much as I didn't want to go to school, the others were all supposed to be way better than Winslow. "Can I just get a transfer? Maybe to Arcadia."

He grunted, stroking his chin. "I've heard that one's hard to get into. Dockworkers talk about their kids, and most of them go to Winslow or Clarendon." He looked away, obviously thinking as his hand dropped. "I'll put out feelers about all of them, just in case."

I scoffed. "Even Immaculata?"

He grinned. "Not feeling the bible study?" He shook his head. "If you don't want to go there, I won't bother asking about it. Just thought they'd be more strict. Might be less bullying." He shrugged. Neither of my parents went to private schools, let alone catholic ones. Gram tried, I'd heard, but mom put her foot down about it. Even as a teenager, she'd hated the idea of propaganda or programming, and a mellow teen doesn't grow up to join a movement like Lustrum's.

I chuckled and shook my head, too. "Not really, no." I stopped to think for a second. "Hey, do you think Winslow would help with the transfer if we made them? As part of the settlement, I mean."

"Probably." He nodded. "Wouldn't be a problem for Clarendon, they're not 'full up', but making them talk to an administration that doesn't want new students while another option is right across town?" He bit his lip and scowled. "Thaaat might cost us a bit. They'd drag it out, anyway. Not sure if we could convince them to do that and any interest from the hospital bill by then..."

Watching dad ruminate on it, I couldn't help but sigh. "How much money were they giving us, anyway? You said there was extra. Maybe they'd be happier about the transfer without that." His eyes widened a bit, but he nodded.

"Might work. I think it came out to just under eight grand after the figure I was quoted for the bill. Wouldn't hurt us too bad going without, and it'd make them look better to the school district."

"Let's try that, then." I smiled, and twitched as I felt myself go limp for a second.

"Nodding off? Let's get you to bed." Dad helped me up out of the chair, as much as I didn't like it, followed me up the stairs and sat be down in bed. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" I nodded, and he left. I didn't even bother undressing before I flopped down and let myself drift off.

SAT JAN 15

It was a pretty lazy day, all round. Dad made breakfast and drew me up a bath afterward when I mentioned wanting to 'get all the hospital off me', before heading in to work for a few hours. He was still making up time he took off, even on top of his usual hour or two working on his days off for the Union's sake. His fussing was still irritating, but it was fine. I realized pretty quick that this was the perfect way to try bending- that word just felt right the first time I'd thought it about my powers- water. Safety, privacy, quantity of material, it was altogether superior to my situation at the hospital.

Honestly, I felt like a child splashing around in their bubble bath. The unintentional infantilism alone was enough to make it frustrating, but my aching, heavy limbs didn't want to move the way I needed them to, to match the flowing motions I'd remembered from my dreams. Holding up spheres was easy now, and I could shape them a bit, I even frosted over the wall when I threw my arm out in frustration at it once. That was interesting, but not really helpful. I had no intention of turning myself into an ice cube by accident while I was still in the tub, thank you.

A couple hours later I decided to get out, pulling the drops of water off me as I went. It still wouldn't dry my hair, probably some mental trick to it since I'd seen people bending their clothes dry in my dreams. For now I just toweled it like usual.

With dad still not back yet, me not feeling up to jogging yet, and not wanting to slam my head against Waterbending anymore today, I headed out into the backyard. It wasn't much, just big enough for a tree to one side, and a little plot for a garden mom had us keep up as a family project. Just one more thing we let go after she passed. Still, if I mucked about there, I could just tell dad I was working out my atrophied muscles trying to clear it out for spring. I didn't think a week and a half in bed was enough for atrophy to set in, but I knew he wouldn't argue the point too much. My body sure as hell felt like it, but the doctors said that might be normal. Cured of infections I might be, I still pulled and tore things trying to bust the locker open from inside.

After the full-body shiver faded, I turned to the patch of weeds boxed in by old tines dad'd grabbed from the trainyard, making it look slightly fancier- like a giant planter box. I took a deep breath and waved my hand at it.

I felt a bit of a rumble, but nothing else happened. Okay, doing something wrong, then. I thought back. Stances. Motions were important, but stances and form were especially important for Earthbending. You had to be the unmoving mountain, telling the world to budge instead.

So I set my feet and shoulders, held my arms parallel to the ground at my sides, took another deep breath, and punched up in the garden's general direction.

Instantly the garden, all four square meters of it, shot about two meters into the air and hovered there.

I was so shocked I immediately dropped it.

Holy shit. Why was I so much better with dirt than water? It took a while for me to calm down enough to decide that it didn't matter. The fact was, I was better with Earthbending. That was fine. Good, even. I had at least one element I didn't feel shitty using.

It took even longer to figure out what to do with it. I could hardly upturn the entire backyard for the sake of training. Not only would dad notice, but there could be pipes down there I didn't want to break. With that thought, I gently raised the mass of earth I'd lifted earlier to check under it. No pipes I could see. I heaved out a sigh of relief. Then I broke off a half-meter square chunk of the dirt, set the rest back where it went, and started pulling little chunks of dirt out of what was left. Even if I couldn't practice anything flashy, I could still work on my fine control. Eventually all the plants in it started falling out, and all the dirt itself was levitated back into the hole it came from.

I'd just need to rake up the weeds when I was done.

Powers were amazing.

I was only a quarter of the way done when dad got home half an hour later, and I took a nap. He never checked out back, just went on making calls to the schools, the hospital, and doing paperwork. I went out to finish the job after he went to bed, feeling incredibly pleased with myself.

SUN JAN 16

The next day I asked dad to take me with him on his way to work. He was fairly curious as to why I wanted to leave the house, and I told him I just wanted to sit by the beach for a while. Completely true, even. He told me to stay where crowds could see me, and to meet him at the DWA around one or two in the afternoon so we could get lunch and head home.

I'd wanted to try something I'd seen in my dreams that night. Using the ocean as a tool to learn Waterbending. really any moving water you're not controlling would work, but waves worked especially well. So I made sure to put on some synthetic fiber pants that wouldn't soak the water very well, and plopped myself down in front of the surf just as it was coming in.

It was really fucking cold and I immediately shot back out of the water. Holy crap it didn't feel that cold in my dreams. Maybe my dream-self was more used to it, or maybe it was just normal dream numbness, but this was almost painfully cold.

After I finished hyperventilating about it, I realized that's probably why it was such a good teaching tool. You bend the water away before it can touch you, which means you don't have to freeze your ass off. Incentives, incentives.

Fine. Taking a few deep breaths, I tried again. This time I managed not to jump out, but it was a near thing. I glanced around to double-check there wasn't anyone near enough to actually see the water acting weirdly, and started making 'shooing' motions at the waves as they came in. At first I wasn't able to do much more than thin the surf out a little, but after a few waves I started to break them around me, letting them almost touch my legs. Then I started getting creative, forming little sheets of ice right before a wave would come in, letting it melt in the surf, keeping myself dry, and repeating.

I got so into it, I almost missed my deadline to meet dad. We wound up hitting one of the bay's few Mexican places for takeout and ate at home, after which I took another nap. Dad seemed to be a little worried about me sleeping too much, but I convinced him I was fine, just on a weird sleep schedule after the hospital.

After dark I went back out to the garden, which I'd packed down yesterday. I started pulling up variously shaped chunks and packing them back down, before trying a different shape. Then I started messing with the shapes while levitating them, and juggling them without actually touching them. While fun, that didn't prevent it from getting boring eventually. So I went to bed.

MON JAN 17

Today I felt well enough to start jogging again. Dad made a fuss about it, reminding me to stay to the safer neighborhoods, and remember my pepper spray. He let me go eventually, and I made my way to the library. I had all day, so I took it slow and paced myself. Then I had to convince the librarians I wasn't truant. A call to Winslow to confirm I had an excused absence and I was on the computer looking up everything publicly available about parahumans and the local gangs.

My research took most of the day, which I hadn't really been expecting. Nothing seemed to fit with what I was going through, so I'd just kept digging. In the end I just headed home instead of to the beach for more training, and found dad had beaten me back. He told me to get a shower in if I wanted, and meet him back in the kitchen when I was done.

"I had a couple meetings with the schools today." He started. "We finalized the settlement, now that the ball's rolling on getting you into Arcadia. Then I went there to talk to them about your enrollment. They want you in Thursday and Friday for testing, given your situation and grades. Then a week to process everything, and you'll start there week after next, starting February."

"That's great, dad!" I said, smiling. It was good. Things were moving faster than I thought, I'd be back in school and on track to get on with my life. I'd have to plan my training around it, but that should be fine.

As dad moved to start dinner, a tiny, traitorous part of my mind couldn't help but wonder how much easier that would be if I could just tell dad I was going off to train my powers, or getting fit so I could fight or run away if trouble started up. I bet he even knew a bunch of dockworkers who knew how to fight, and could help me train.

I moved to say something, to try and tell him I was a cape, but my throat locked up. What if he had another overprotective fit? What if he didn't understand?

My throat was painfully tight as I tried to utter any sound at all. I knew things would be better if dad knew. I knew it. He loved me, only wanted what was best for me, and I trusted him. I tried again, and again no sound came out.

I trusted him, dammit!

Apparently I'd stood there, locked up and slowly tearing up long enough that the silence alerted dad that something was off. He turned back from where he'd been filling a pot with water- some pasta dish, maybe spaghetti or casserole- and his face grew worried as he saw me. "Taylor? What's wrong?"

"I-" I tried, I really did. Why was this happening? I felt trapped, caught, weak. Stop being so weak!

I flicked my hand up and a glob of the water in the pan rose up into the air. Dad turned and saw it, I couldn't see it now, but when he turned back, making vague sounds of alarm and confusion, his eyes were very wide.

"I have powers." I finally managed to choke out. The tears were streaming down my face now, and dad's face shifted through confusion, understanding, horror, a split second of rage, and then settled on comforting worry.

"Oh, honey..." He muttered, crossing the room to wrap me up in his arms. I dropped the water, which overflowed the pot. The faucet was still burbling away, but I was finding it hard to care.

I cried for a bit, as dad murmured it was going to be okay, and stroked my hair down my back. When I pushed away, I sniffled and wiped at my face, and he asked me if I was okay. I nodded, noticed the faucet still on, and reached out toward it. Some of the water flowed up over the tap, slowly froze, and I telekinetically shut off the water. The ice unfroze much faster than it froze, and I turned back to dad, who'd been starting amazed at me.

"So..." He started awkwardly, "You have water powers?"

I shook my head and chuckled a little. "Classical elements, I think. Water, wind-" I reached out my palm and a weak gust rustled a group of mom's decorative mugs hanging on a pegboard near the sink. "-earth-" I stomped my foot, and the house shook lightly. "-and fire." I didn't do anything, and dad still looked spooked from my mini-tremor, so I elucidated. "I haven't actually tried doing anything with fire. Seemed dangerous."

He held up a hand. "Please don't do that, we might need to fix the pipes now." I had the grace to blush bashfully. "That's... a lot of powers. So you're a- they're called Grab Bags, right?"

My hand came up in a 'so-so' gesture. "I looked it up today, and I don't think that's it. Grab bag capes usually have a bunch of weak, unrelated, or barely-related powers. I'm pretty sure I've got a matching set of powers that'd be about average on their own." I moved over to help him start cooking, and he followed, breaking off for the freezer. Looks like we were doing a chicken pasta thing.

Chicken deposited in the partly full-of-water sink to thaw, he asked "Alfredo or cheesy casserole?"

I thought about it for a bit. "Caaasserole." I hummed, pleasurably. He smiled and went back to grab cheese. I grabbed the oven dish out of the cupboard, along with some macaroni for the pasta.

While dad was cutting up the cheese, I heard him take a deep breath. "I want you to join the Wards."

There was no helping the pause I took as his words washed over me. I knew this was coming, but it still hurt a little. "I don't want to join them." I cut off his reply, pausing in my work to turn to him. "At least not yet. Dad, if I join the wards, they'll throw a costume on me and parade me out in front of the public as fast as they possibly can. I wouldn't mind that after I'm stronger, but right now? That just paints a target on our backs. They'll know I exist, and that they can come looking for me." I turned back to greasing the pan and waiting for the water to boil, giving dad a second to think on my words. "I don't want to fight anyone yet. I know I'm not strong enough. That's why I'm going to train, get better, get stronger, and then we can talk about whether or not I want to join a team." I glanced his way. "Deal?"

He mused over my words. "Safety in obscurity, huh?" It actually sounded way better now that I knew the strategy I had planned had a name. "Alright. We'll hold off on teams. But you'll run this... power training, by me to make sure there's not something you're missing. I don't want you getting impatient and outing yourself. I remember what being a teenager is like."

The groan I let out would not be stifled, and he chuckled. We kept at this for about half a minute before I brought up another point. "I'd kinda' like to get some training in hand-to-hand. Mostly basic self-defense, but my powers seem to work better if I use them with proper martial arts forms."

Dad hummed to himself. "A couple of the guys owe me favors, I could probably get you some basic lessons on military CQC, Karate, Judo, things like that."

My eyes lit up. "That's perfect! Exactly what I was after." I reached over and gave him a half-arm hug, staying wary of the knife he was cutting chicken with, and my own greasy paws. "Thanks, dad."

Another thought popped to mind as I was stirring pasta. "What about getting some weights? I like running, but maybe some more upper body work would help?"

He shrugged. "I think I've got some dumbbells in the basement, but they're only five or ten pounds. Could probably buy some used weights on the cheap from one of the guys if you want, though."

"That'd be great."

After we threw everything together and stuck it in the oven, I offered to let dad see me training my Earthbending a bit. "Is that what happened to the garden?" He'd chuckled, and went to grab one of his 'emergency beers.' He'd cut alcohol almost entirely out of his life after Alan, Kurt, and a bunch of his other friends kicked his ass for still being a layabout drunk a few months after mom died. He still kept some around for stressful days though, and I did just drop a hell of a whammy on him. I couldn't really begrudge him the booze.

We went out and I showed him a few things while the chicken cooked. We had dinner, chatting mostly about his work and possible training ideas I'd had, and then we went back out so I could train some more. Dad grabbed another beer, watching me train with worried pride, and for the first time since I'd gotten back from the hospital, I didn't bother trying to get up after dark for extra training.

This chapter includes the original prologue, as well as the first three updates. They get longer over time, so I think by 1.3 I won't be scrunching in multiple updates from the original thread anymore. That said, I'll probably be posting up chapters every few days until it's caught up.

I'm rather intentionally NOT including the voting blocks and social rolls here. If there's enough interest though, I might post them up in an informational threadmark or something. Let me know if you want me to copy over things like the Skill Tree, OC lists, and party screen team info pages.

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Dalxein

Jan 27, 2020

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Threadmarks Chapter 1.2 (Arcadia)

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Dalxein

Dalxein

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Jan 28, 2020

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Part 4 to part 6 of the original updates.

TUE JAN 18

I got up at dawn, and spent the time before breakfast training more. I turned as much of the garden area into silty dust as I could, and tried my hand at trying to 'swim' through granulate earth. It didn't go as well as I'd wanted it to, but I learned a bit. Like how much I disliked the taste of dirt.

A quick shower before breakfast, and dad dropped me off at the library before he went to work. I spent most of the day cramming for the Arcadia tests, and dad picked me up on the way home. He'd packed the back of the truck full of refuse from around the docks, mostly old brick and mortar, concrete and asphalt chunks, drywall and plaster, along with a bucket of sand and some actual rocks.

I spent the rest of the night experimenting with them. It turned out that there was something off about man-made, or at least man-altered 'earth' that kept me from bending it right. I could still feel it, and move it a bit, but I wasn't where I needed to be to bend it properly yet.

That night, I dreamt of fire.

WED JAN 19

It was another slow day. I went jogging in the morning, and dad dropped me off for school study again. This time I stayed up training into the night a bit, I was pretty anxious about the testing tomorrow. I got up, jogged, showered, and dad dropped me off at the library on his way to work.

Arcadia / THU JAN 20

The school was... intimidating.

It was odd, one would think having fewer gang signs, prettier landscaping, an actual fence and nice buildings, would actually put my mind at ease, but it just left me worrying where the actual punches were going to be coming from. I made it in, got to the office, gave my name, and then tried meditating to calm my nerves. I knew how to, I'd done it in my dreams often enough, (and wasn't that a weird thought?) but I'd never taken the time to slow down and sit still in real life.

Soon enough, one of the assistant principles came by to collect me. They had a spare study room that wasn't in use, and hadn't been taken over as a club space yet, so lacked anything too distracting for her tests. Ms. Anderson was curt, but otherwise nice enough about the whole thing.

I was let out to lunch with a voucher for the day, and while part of me wanted to jump right in and socialize, on the whole I just wanted to be left alone today. I got a few interested looks, but my glum, intense exterior kept anyone from talking to me.

Testing resumed, and I was let out a bit earlier than the rest of the school, having just finished a test and the teacher not wanting to run too late by starting another.

I went home, dug out the dumbbells dad mentioned, and spent my time alternating weight training and Earthbending until I was too exhausted to worry about the rest of my tests.

FRI JAN 21

After the morning's testing, I was almost done. I had maybe one test left by the time lunch rolled around, and then I'd be free to go. I got another voucher, and this time, I decided I'd be social. Screw being a meek wallflower, I wouldn't let those bitches win.

Looking over the bustling crowd though, I hesitated. I didn't need to launch myself headfirst into the dark morass of teenage social strata to not be a wallflower. I'd just go be social outside.

...which would be easier if there was anyone outside. Aside from people coming and going, anyway. It took a bit of searching, but eventually I found someone sitting on a bench near a couple of trees, eating quietly while flicking through pages on a bulky brick of a smartphone. I headed over.

"Hey." I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. The half-dead almost-glare that resulted showed my confidence was irrelevant. "Uhhm, you... mind if I sit here?"

She glanced down at the free half of the bench and rolled her eyes with a scoff. "Free country." She went back to her phone.

...what a bitch.

Oh well, that won't stop me. I'm going to be social today if it kills someone, and I'm the one with powers, here. I plopped down on the bench, sat my food to the side, and took a silent fortifying breath. "I'm Taylor. I'm going to be starting here in a couple weeks." The one eye I could see swiveled in my direction. "Transferring in from Winslow."

"Good for you." Her voice was a droning monotone. "I hear it's a shithole."

I chuckled, "It really is." Maybe this might work, after all? "I wound up in the hospital, the place is so bad." Maybe not attributable to Winslow as a whole, but...

That got a reaction. An interested widening of her eyes. "You're locker girl?"

I flinched and sighed. "Please don't call me that." I took a second to calm down. "But yeah, that was me."

She hummed, and seemed to be thinking for almost half a minute. "Amy Dallon."

"Huh?"

"My name." She huffed. "It's Amy Dallon."

"Oh." Why was tha- holy shit this bitch is Panacea. "Oh! Neat."

"Neat?" She asked with a smirk. "Not the usual reaction. You're not mad?"

Now I was confused. "Why would I be mad?"

"I didn't heal you."

The frustration in those words were almost a palpable force. I wasn't sure why, there were half a dozen reasons that came to mind, and none of them made sense to me right in that second. So I shrugged. "I was only hurt for about two weeks." And I got powers out of it. "Who'd care about that?"

She was looking at me like I'd just told her I was a betentacled space invader who'd impregnated her family last night. Then she huffed, shook her head, chuckled, and asked, "What's your number?"

That had me at a loss, my burgeoning good mood gone. "I... don't have a cell phone."

"What, you break it in the locker?" She snarked.

I growled. "No, I didn't have one before that."

She let out a breath and muttered, "no wonder..." before she turned back to me. "Y'ever thought that maybe if you had one, you could've called for help, and then you wouldn't be locker girl?"

A large part of me wanted to hate her for that, but the rest actually agreed with her. Plus, if I ever wanted to actually be a hero, I'd have to make calls eventually, right? "I'll have one before I start here."

She nodded, got up, dusted herself off, and grabbed her bag. "Good. Gimme your number when you do." She started back towards the school, a jaunty wave and a sing-song "Later, locker-girl." thrown over her shoulder back at me.

Stop calling me that. "Later, bitch queen!" I called back, drawing a startled squawk of laughter from her. She didn't stop or turn back, but I saw her shake her head and she seemed to be smiling.

...did I just accidentally a friend?

FRI JAN 21

After my last test, I went straight to dad's work. He seemed a little surprised I was done already, and told me nothing was going on for a couple hours, yet. So I'd wound up sitting in the yard by the office, sitting down and meditating again.

I'd felt something through the earth a few times while using it. I knew I had. It seemed like it'd be a useful skill to have, sensing things through the ground. So I'd sat my bony butt on the concrete and tried to feel anything around me through it. A few minutes later I'd gotten frustrated and flopped backward, huffing and trying to calm down, when I noticed I was actually starting to feel something with more of my body on the ground. So I laid myself flat and started the meditation again.

Dad wound up kicking my side lightly, probably thinking I'd fallen asleep. I'd been so focused on little bits of movement blocks away that I wasn't paying attention to the 'safe' area of the yard. Definitely needed to work on that.

"This is Gerard." Dad said, pointing me over to a wiry white guy with sandy hair. If I'd met him on the street I might've assumed he was Empire, but if he was with dad he must be fine. "He's gonna be kicking the shit out of you today." I sputtered indignantly as he turned to the man. "If you actually kick the shit out of my little owl, I'll break your arm."

That just had the man chuckling and promising we'd be sticking to light bruising today. I had the impression that dad couldn't take this guy in a fight, and they both knew it. He started telling me about 'Aikido' and using my opponent's force against them.

SAT JAN 22

I was almost too sore to get up the next morning. I was certainly a mass of bruises, alright. Apparently I'd surprised him by having a lot more force than a hundred pound beanpole should, and that left me eating dirt a little harder than intended when he threw it back at me. Even going over how to fall before that only helped so much. Smug asshole didn't seem like he'd had a single bruise when we left, even though I'd thrown him just as often as he had me.

Eventually we made it home and I just flopped down in the backyard to rest and practice more with sensing things. That's where I was now, too. I didn't want to do anything today. Too busy resting my bruises, and I'd have another session of training later today, too. Hurray.

I sighed. Dad would only let me get away with skipping my studies to acclimate to proper training for another day, maybe two. Had to make the most of it. Dad brought lunch and we made a picnic out of it, then he started tossing an old ball into the garden while I was blindfolded, and had me toss it back with Earthbending. I was, thankfully, allowed to stay flopped on the ground for this.

Then we went and I met Gerry.

Gerry kicked my ass harder than Gerard did.

SUN JAN 23

I don't know if he'd planned it ahead of time, or if he was just taking pity on me, but after two days with four hour stints of hard physical training, I was begging to get back to schoolwork. I wound up skipping my usual morning training for an extra-long, powers-free soak in the tub. Still trained my sensing in the evening after studying, though.

MON JAN 24

Today I went jogging again, and went down to the stores... and bought a phone. Not a great one, not terribly expensive, just something to make calls and texts with, and a little data just in case.

It hurt so much, caving to practicality to buy that thing.

I went to the library to study, then to dad's work to pose through a bunch of flowing forms with an older Asian woman that was apparently a secretary at one of the other unions in town. Then home to train and meditate.

TUE JAN 25

Felt up to running and weights, today. Dad said he'd found someone with a weight set they'd part with, and that they'd bring it by over the weekend.

More training with granny-sensei. Apparently I was one of her 'projects' now.

FRI JAN 28

I was starting to wonder when having a phone started to feel normal. That... felt way too fast. I'd already programmed in a bunch of emergency numbers, and knowing I had the cops or fire department a few buttons away from being on the line... maybe it wouldn't help as much, this being Brockton Bay and all, but it was still a reassurance I could've done with a lot sooner.

Now I was starting to worry about what might happen to dad if something happened. If he had a car crash, or if something happened while shopping, or any other time he couldn't get to a landline. I knew I'd feel so much better knowing he could get ahold of me, that I could get ahold of him, anytime we needed each other.

I just didn't know how I'd be able to say it to him.

I had a plan, now I just needed to wait for tonight. I went for my morning run, then we had breakfast and I did my usual library thing.

This afternoon was my last session training with Sue for a while, or as wouldn't get out of my head- "Granny-Sensei." I blamed martial arts movies from my childhood, but honestly part of me really liked the lectures she'd give on east Asian language and cultural identity whenever I called the tiny Korean woman by a Japanese title.

And she really was tiny. Barely five foot, wiry frame starting to turn skeletal with age, she looked at least sixty, even though she was only a few years older than dad. Stress and too many years smoking, she'd said. Quit around when I was born, but the damage was done.

When we talked, she'd always mention stress as this monolithic enemy to pick apart one day at a time until serenity kicked in. I'd asked her how long it'd taken her, and she'd just laughed. Laughed and laughed until I realized she never actually thought it could be beaten. Not here, at least.

"You're worried" Sue stated, while they were moving through Tai-Chi forms.

It was actually a little annoying how well the old woman could read my mood sometimes. "What gave it away?" I chuckled.

She hummed. "You slip into Kung Fu more often when you're worried." I wondered how that was relevant, but after a moment she continued. "I've talked with your father about you quite a bit since we started. Gerard knows Bagua and Aikido, Gerry does Judo, Krav Maga." We moved through another few stances. "Where did you learn Kung Fu?"

I froze. I wracked my brain for what she might mean, and then realized she must be talking about the stances and strikes the Earthbenders in my dreams used, the ones I'd started using, both there and physically. I'd had Kung Fu downloaded into my brain somehow, and that left me without a good answer to her question.

When I looked over, she'd also stopped, dropped out of her stance. She stared at me, her look understanding, even a bit sad. "I won't push." She said, softly. "Young girls keep their secrets, but your father worries. Too much, sometimes."

"I'm... sorry?" I was confused with how to respond to her words, and even more confused when she reached out and softly bapped my nose before I could react.

"Worry him less, so he bitches at me less." I spluttered at the words, and the tonal whiplash that came with them. "You're your parents' daughter." Knife right to my fucking heart. "Danny worries about so much he can't control, and it wears him down. Don't let it happen to you, too." Message delivered, she smiled. "Now, gonna be busy for a few weeks, so you wanna see how far you've come with a spar?"

I couldn't help it, I smiled a little too. She'd taught me a lot, but we'd never actually gotten physical in our training. I nodded.

That little old lady absolutely destroyed me.

When we got home, I told dad I wanted to try some new training. Which is how we wound up sitting out back on the ground. I'd figured out that my earth senses were much better via direct skin contact, which was going to make costumes interesting if I wound up needing sole-less footwear, but I'd decided to wear thin biking shorts for this. I'd sat myself cross-legged on the ground, pressing as much of my bare legs to the dirt as I could.

"So, I told you about how I can sense heartbeats and stepping feet and things really easily with my senses, right?" That's what I'd gotten him out here with. "Well I think if I get really good at it, I might be able to sense the rest of the body, too. Sort of like... an emotion sense?" I was reaching, I really didn't want to call it a-

"A lie detector, you mean?" Dad chuckled. Dammit, dad. "Alright, how are we going to test that? You want me to try and lie about things?"

Here we go. "I figured I'd just... talk, maybe ask things, see how you reacted."

I could see the cogs turning behind his eyes. He knew I was up to something, but couldn't figure out what. "Alright. Go ahead."

"Well, I think Sue knows something's up, maybe that I've got powers." No increase in the tiny rumble of his breathing, small perk in heartbeat before it balanced out. He wasn't really surprised, or he trusted her a lot more than I thought he did. "Aaand I made a friend at school while I was there testing." No reaction. Did he think I was actually socially competent, or something? "And she... convinced me to get a cell phone." His breath hitched, and his heart rate spiked. He didn't look alarmed or angry, though. More thoughtful. "I want you to get one, too."

Now he did look a little mad. He took a couple breaths and his heart slowed down a tad. "What's your reasoning on that?"

I decided to lead with the killing blow. "I want to be able to get ahold of you whenever I need you, no matter where you are." Oh yeah, now that was a spike in heart rhythm. His breathing was shallow, and I could feel him fidgeting. "Plus it'll help with work, and you can call emergency services if you need to." And then I thought of a knife I could twist to really get him to agree. I waited until it looked like he was stalling his reply, and added, "We lost mom because she was using her phone. I don't want to lose you because you wouldn't use one."

The look on his face made me feel like a monster. Being able to sense even a bit of what he must be feeling through his body with my senses was horrible. He started breathing harder, then he got up and started towards the house.

"Please, dad." I whined. He stopped, turned back. I saw how hesitant he was, but he gave a jerky motion that could pass for a nod before he went inside. I'd won the argument.

I just felt like a manipulative bitch afterward.

I took a few minutes to calm down before I set myself to meditating, trying to sense the bodies of people out on the street, or in houses, which didn't work as well.

SAT JAN 29

Dad was gone when I woke up. I'd slept in a little, then made myself some instant oatmeal because I felt like crap. I spent so long anxiously messing with it that Dad came back when I was almost done. He looked... okay. Still worked up, but not angry. He came into the kitchen and set a bag of takeout breakfast and a shopping bag on the table. I felt a spike of self-hatred, self-disgust, self-something at wasting my time making food I didn't need to and then playing with it until the morning was gone.

I took a breath and sank the first few steps into meditation. I was being emotional, irrational. I was looking for ways to get back at myself for hurting dad. That's all this was.

He dug a package out of the bag and slid it over to me on the table. It was a cheap pre-paid phone. "Remind me how these stupid things work?"

It was an olive branch, I knew. He hadn't forgotten how phones work, he just wanted me involved. So I opened it up and we turned it on, added the phone card he'd gotten for it, and fiddled with the settings until he wasn't unhappy with it.

"I'm sorry." I said when we were done.

"I know." He replied, shaking his head. "It's stupid. I know it's stupid, but..." He was getting worked up again, then he sighed. "I'm sorry, too."

We hugged it out, and decided to just get on with our damn day. Some guy named Kyle came by in the afternoon, and the three of us packed a weight bench and the individual weights down to the basement over a half-dozen trips. It was weird how little trouble I was having with them, maybe carrying a little more than the two adult men were, even. I decided in the moment that this was something to freak out about later. We set the things up, hands were shaken, and he left. We'd set the bar at about 30 pounds to start with, and I tried it out, shocked to find that it was actually pretty easy. We upped it to 40, then 50 which I was starting to need to work at, then 60 which had me struggling.

That seemed pretty odd for an untrained mid-teen girl. We dialed the weight back down to 40 and had me do reps for a few minutes. We went and got a late lunch after that, and I started looking up stuff about Brute parahumans on my phone while we ate.

After that was training with Gerard again, which I handled much better after my week with Sue. I hadn't actually gained much training with Gerry, unlike the others. I think it had something to do with matching up training to styles like the ones already in my head? Then it was more like retraining a rusty skill, rather than learning a new one.

I wound up wandering downtown after that in sandals with the soles removed, mostly just people watching with both my eyes and earth senses. I caught a late bus home after it got dark and the crowds thinned out.

SUN JAN 30

Dad was sleeping in today, so I jogged down to the library for my last study session before Arcadia. I was at a table reading up on biology when I heard them.

"Oh wow, if it isn't Taylor!" That bitch Emma crooned. I grit my teeth and forced myself not to react otherwise. "Fancy meeting you, here."

"We were so worried." Madison added in, almost sounding sincere. "We thought you might be dead."

Emma scoffed. "No, she just smells dead. They cleaned that locker three times, and it still stinks whenever I walk by." Hand on the wooden table. Senses muffled by sneaker soles and carpet, the table's a little clearer. Not earth, but solid enough to get blurry shapes. Two of them, coming up behind me on either side. A third standing out in the open and not moving was probably Sophia.

They seemed done for the moment, so I took a deep breath. "Go away, Emma."

"Aww," She cooed. "You're gonna have to try harder than that. So, when are you crawling back, Taylor?"

"Not going back." I said as I gathered up my things.

She scoffed. "You're running away? I always knew you were a coward."

I smirked. "Not running away, just moving on." I'd never have to deal with her outside these unfortunate public meetings, soon. Had to keep that in mind. Had to keep looking forward to it.

When I stood, the two of them closed around me, so I'd have to push past at least one of them to leave. "Sounds a lot like running, to me, weakling."

I slipped into the first step of meditation. Clear your mind of excess clutter. Focus on what's in front of you, let everything else fall away. "Just tired of letting you hold me back."

Her eyes widened as I threw back the words she'd said to me, the day she ended our friendship. I reached out to the side without looking, nudging Madison out of position so I could slip between them. My passing out of her vision seemed to restart Emma.

"Yeah, just run away. Run like you always do!" She yelled, and I ignored her.

Sophia was between me and the exit like usual. When I tried to go around her, she moved to intercept and reached out to shove me back. I turned her hand with a flick of my own. Her eyes widened, narrowed, and she tried to grab the hand I'd used. I knocked her reaching paw away with my other hand. She growled and shot out a punch toward my gut.

I grabbed her wrist, swept her legs out from under her, and slammed her face-down into the ground with my knee on her back.

The entire library was suddenly dead silent.

Sophia seemed to be trying to silently process what'd just happened, so I glanced up to Emma and Madison, who were staring at me wide-eyed. I glanced over the staring crowd until my eyes found one of the librarians, out of her seat and watching uneasily.

I nodded to her, hopped off Sophia with my arms raised, and backed toward the exit. I couldn't keep the grin off my face as I turned and called "Later, bitches."

I couldn't help it.

I felt amazing.

The new instructor dad lined up for me was a slightly short, scrappy-looking Filipino man named Jake. After the revelation that I seemed to do better with styles from my dreams, we decided adding more Kung Fu, which seemed to be used by two of my bending styles, had to become a priority. He was jovial and energetic, and claimed the only reasons he agreed to this were that dad would owe him a favor, and that Old Sue vouched for my skills. A fairly glowing review despite being thoroughly trounced when I'd actually gotten to spar with her.

After that it was more people-watching downtown, before heading home.

MON JAN 31

First day at Arcadia. I was anxious and excited, getting there early so they could set me up with a locker and make sure I knew where all my classes were. I really had no intention of using the locker, but they had no reason to know my new thick canvas backpack was purchased both to appear slightly more stylish than my stained old one, and to help hide how little trouble carrying all of my books at once was giving me.

First period was English. It was nice getting to experience it without the constant dread of Winslow, but I figured that'd be a constant today. I kept having to remind myself to stop slouching, or ducking away from rustles behind me or motion out of the corner of my eyes. I was safer here, and as I'd shown yesterday, it wasn't like I was helpless. Even without powers, I put Sophia on the floor. I was sure I'd be fine here.

Second period was History. It was before third, math, that I actually found Amy in the halls. I called out to her and she stopped. I dug the note I'd written before school out of my pocket and held it out to her. She looked down at it, then back at me, waiting.

"...you asked for my number, when we had lunch together about a week ago?" I tried, starting to sweat a little.

"Riiiiight." She didn't look surprised, so she'd either remembered me from the start, or didn't care. Either way, she took the note. "Anything else?"

"Do you..." Dammit, Taylor. New school, new me. Stop acting so meek! I shook myself. "Do you want to have lunch together again?"

Her lip quirked very slightly. "I suppose we could." She turned to head off. "Same place?" She called behind her, not waiting for a reply.

I couldn't decide if she was actually super cool, or one of the most unpleasant people I'd ever met. I sighed and headed off to class, deciding on the way that it was probably the latter. I just had no luck with friends, it seemed. The fact that I ignored two calls for 'new girl' and demurred away from someone that came up to me that break alone was completely lost on me. Forever alone.

Lunch couldn't come fast enough. Sure, I was actually learning now, but school was school. I went straight to the cafeteria, got my food, and was slightly surprised Amy'd beaten me to the bench anyway. "How'd you get here so fast?" I asked as I sat.

She shrugged. "Cut in line." I gave her a side look, very slight horror and disappointment. She scoffed. "I was with Vicky. People jump out of the way for her."

"Your sister, right?"

Amy nodded and smirked. "Ray of fuckin' sunshine."

I hesitated. "Are you two... okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "Me and Vicky are great, I love my sister." Another, wider smirk this time. "It's everyone else I can't stand."

That had me thinking for a moment. "If I'm imposing...?"

Her hand waved, cutting me off. "You're fine." She gave me a side-eye and took a drink, pausing for a moment after. "You haven't asked me to heal you."

I cocked my head. "No?"

She smiled and pointed waved toward my hands. "You've got a bruise on your wrist, and a little spot on your chin." she pointed at her own, and I felt mine, finding that indeed, it was a little tender. "You're not some whiny china doll, here to have me fix you." She took another sip. "I like that." She huffed, shook her head, and pointed at me with the hand still holding her fruit juice. "Though as an honorary medical professional, I'm semi-legally obligated to ask about your home life, now."

It took me a second to get it. "Oh! No, dad wouldn't hurt me. I've been doing martial arts since I got out of the hospital. ...started about when we met, actually." I thought out loud.

She shrugged and started shoveling fries into her face. "They have me do a couple courses now and then, too." She griped. "Gotta keep their precious healer safe." She muttered something angrily.

"Actually, I asked to do it." My smile grew slightly strained. "I didn't want to feel weak anymore."

Her eyes stayed on me for a few seconds before she nodded and looked away. Maybe that stuck a chord with her? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw hers widen, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"There you are!"

I turned to the cheerful voice that was coming from the school and-

Pretty.

I couldn't help it. I blushed a little.

"Vicky..." Amy groaned.

So this was her sister. Ray of sunshine, indeed. The blonde was floating just in front of us, now.

"New friend, Ames?" Vicky asked. "Oh, we have to hang out sometime! Let's meet up after school, you're free, right?" My head lolled, and she took that as confirmation. She fished out a phone- identical to Amy's, I noted- and asked what my number was. I rattled off the digits as I wracked my brain for why that was significant. Why phone numbers would matter- !

"Amy!" I said, turning to her. She seemed shocked I could even remember she existed with her sister right in front of me. "I forgot to get your number!"

She blinked, and told me her number after I'd gotten my phone out, then Vicky gave me hers. Amy was dragged off toward the cafeteria after that, Vicky chattering on about something 'Kara' had said which the healer apparently needed to hear about, while the girl in question looked back to me and mouthed 'save me' overdramatically.

I just smiled and gave them a shy wave while they left. I shook my head, still needed to eat my lunch. That was really odd, though... Amy was being nice, and Vicky was so pretty...

That made me blush again, this time in frustration. Why had I been making eyes at a girl? I was straight, dammit!

I shook my head, kicked my shoes off and ate in silence while I watched the people mingle via my feet.

Last edited: Jan 28, 2020

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Dalxein

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Threadmarks Chapter 1.3 (Victoria)

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Dalxein

Dalxein

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Jan 29, 2020

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Updates 7 and 8.

MON JAN 31

While I certainly wanted to be more social, I wasn't sure about throwing myself into the deep end, as it were. In hindsight, they'd been planning this outing before Vicky invited me, so it seemed entirely likely to be a group social thing with her friends. Which... didn't appeal as much.

I hung back after my last class, slipped off my shoes- it was getting harder to put them back on, I felt so blind- and got out my phone. They turned everything back on right away after classes, right? So I'd have a signal. I sent off a couple of texts.

'Hey Vicky, I forgot I had plans with my dad today, can we hang out later this week?' and 'Hey Amy, I forgot I had plans after school, and I didn't want to feel like a third wheel anyway. Maybe we can hang out later?'

The reply from Vicky was a quick and cheerful 'KK, ttyl!' while the one from Amy was more interesting.

'Going t let me sfr alone, I c how it is.' Oh geez, was she mad at me? I had to reply fast. I shoved my shoes in by bag and dodged the thinning crowd with feetvision while I typed.

'No! I just have martial arts every day this week, need to cancel in advance, and can't do that while the school's dark' Send. I thought about it, and also added, 'I'm also pretty bad with people, and I thought this was a big group thing.'

I was well out of school and on my way to the bus by the time I got a reply. 'k, np' at... least she didn't seem mad? Maybe she was joking earlier and I overreacted? I started hyperventilating a little. People were hard! I got to the stop, hung a bit back from the other students, and tried to calm down.

It wasn't far to my stop, near dad's work. I probably could've run it and gotten there about half an hour later, but I wanted the extra time to talk with dad. He was in the middle of a call when I got there, but it wasn't long to wait. "What's up, Taylor?"

"Well..." I thought of the stuff I'd wanted to ask about, over the course of brainstorming at school. "Do we have any fans?" He looked confused. "Y'know, foldy..." in my demonstration, my hands wound up approximating the shape of a shadow-puppet bird. I blushed and dropped my arms to my sides. "Never mind." Dad chuckled and shook his head, he knew what I meant. "Anyway, I was thinking about making the most of my elements, those came to mind, plus maybe some water canteens? Just to make sure I have water around." The deadpan look he gave me was stifling. "I know, know, but we have sunny days every now and then, plus I can drink it on runs. Still not completely sure I can pull all the dirt and gunk out of water." He hummed and nodded.

"You want a lighter, too?" He asked.

I held up my hand and a ball of fire started merrily crackling away in my palm. "Nooot really necessary." I snuffed it out, and hummed thoughtfully. My elements could be incredibly deadly if I wasn't careful with them. "And... maybe some weapons?" Dad's eyes widened, and I rushed to clarify. "Just blunt things! Like those police batons. It's a lot safer than burning people, or hitting them with a ten pound stone at more than thirty miles an hour." I'd checked. I could chuck rocks fast. Broken bones and ruptured organs, fast.

"You mean the collapsible ones, or the rigid tactical ones?"

"Yeeeess?" I couldn't help the shy smile that crept onto my face as I made the joke.

Dad chuckled, and told me to wait a sec. He dug out his cell phone and spent the next three minutes pecking out a text on it. After it was sent, he said "Pretty sure Carrow does weapons, too. I asked him to bring some things for today."

Well... that was easy. I sat myself down in a chair by his desk as he started on some paperwork. It wasn't long until I started fidgeting, nor until he noticed. "What's wrong?"

I sighed and kicked off my shoes. It helped a little, but with the carpet covering the whole administrative building's floors, my senses didn't propagate very far. "I just, it's getting harder to wear shoes everywhere. I just feel so blind without being able to see half a dozen blocks in every direction like I was standing there." His eyes were very wide now. Hadn't I told him how far my footsenses could see? I could pick out a tiny bit of general information from across the city if I sat down and concentrated on it. ...maybe he didn't need to know that much. "Just getting frustrating."

"Sounds like it." He muttered, and got back to work, slower this time. He didn't tell me to put my shoes back on.

I hadn't bothered putting my shoes back on to start training. I figured I could start pulling double-duty on martial arts and my senses. When Jake showed up carrying a duffel bag, he seemed like a genuinely happy, upbeat person to my senses. No more stress than you'd expect in Brockton, seemed honestly enthused about training, had a spring in his step that made him seem excited. Maybe he didn't get to show off weapons skills very often?

All that before he'd set the bag down and started talking.

"Alright, I've got some eskrima sticks, some short staves, tonfa, and pads in here." He dug into it for a second before he tossed a small black rod at me. "That's a collapsible baton. I have a couple, keep losing and finding the damn things, you can have that one." He was lying. Much too orderly to lose his gear, but he did have more than just this one, so he was fine parting with it. He showed me how to flick it open and close it, then told me to stick it in my pocket and forget about it for today. "Now to start off, these are tonfa." He held up a pair of wooden batons with a handled rod sticking out about a third of the way down the length. "They're what you might think of when someone says 'police baton' which is what Danny asked me about, but usually they're used more by SWAT than regular cops these days." He started swinging his arms, flipping the batons about as he moved. "They're actually pretty complicated to use well, at least against trained fighters." His motions got more complicated, sweeping strikes, quick jabs, distracting windmill feints, "so we're not going to be getting too into them today."

"We're not?" I asked.

"Haha, no." Jake smiled. It was the sort of smile that hinted at impending schadenfreude, in other words not entirely nice. "Today you're learning how to not hit yourself with these, then moving on to normal baton work. Tomorrow we'll start on how to actually use them."

That... seemed fair.

He tossed them back into the bag and grabbed out a couple foot long and 20-inch wooden rods, and a padded mitt. "Now, punching with something in your hand is a lot different than a normal fist. It'll throw you off if you're not ready for it." He tossed me one of the short rods and put the mitt on. "Now, start off light and move towards full strength punches, just to get a feel for it." He patted his mitt, and I had a startled thought that he had no idea how strong I actually was.

Dad got home before I did, and was already in bed. I'd stayed there practicing with Jake until it got dark, instead of heading to the boardwalk. This training was going to save someone's life someday- probably mine- and I had to take it seriously.

I found leftovers on the table, along with an old and dented but serviceable metal canteen about eight inches across, along with a purple travel thermos with green leaf designs on it that used to be mom's. I guess it counted, it had an adjustable strap to it that you could lash around your waist like a belt, or hold the thing via a shoulder like a purse. I vaguely remembered her using it when we'd go hiking or camping, before she got busy with the university and I started going to summer camp instead.

I sniffled away the tears, and decided to just keep the metal one in my backpack for now. My feet were sore from all the walking on rough concrete today, so I decided to soak them a bit and head to bed.

TUE FEB 1

School was fine. I caught Amy in the halls and asked if she wanted to eat lunch together, but she'd said she couldn't get away today. I imagine she meant her sister and her group, which still didn't sound appealing, and it must have shown on my face, since she laughed at me.

I wound up floating around the cafeteria instead, finally settling down at a mostly empty table with other quiet people. Vicky looked like she wanted to come over and talk, but Amy poked her in the side and said something that caused her to pout. The two of them wound up at the center of a gaggle of other teens, Vicky usually loudly chatting with or being loudly chatted at by the other girls one at a time. Amy looked almost miserable, sitting there on her phone stealing glances at her sister, occasionally speaking up apparently to chastise her sister for her aura if the wince was anything to go by, or quietly addressed by one of the other hangers-around and forced to interact with people.

It was exhausting just watching all that going on, let alone being in the middle of it. I couldn't help but feel a bit bad for leaving Amy to her fate, but I didn't think I'd actually help her by being there.

After class let out, I got a text from Vicky.

'Shp tmrw? Y, m, Amy?'

I stopped to think about that. If it was just the three of us, it'd be fine. And Amy would be there in case Vicky's aura acted up... yeah. I could do this. I replied with 'Sure, when/where?' and got told to just meet them out front after school. I went out the front this time, and waved to Vicky and Amy when I saw them leaving, too. Easing a little harder into this 'friends' thing wouldn't be too bad.

We practiced with the sticks until Jake was sure I hadn't forgotten any of my lessons from yesterday, then moved on to the tonfas. He said that if I'd gotten good enough, he'd let dad buy a set off him for cheap. I hadn't figured out why that pinged as a lie to my senses until I caught him watching me train with a small smile via my senses. He was proud. He'd probably just give dad the damn things if asked. He had at least the two sets, maybe more.

I told him I'd be missing tomorrow because socializing, and he jeered about me having a date. I told him I was meeting a couple girls from school, and he just mocked me for being shy about dating girls. I smacked him a couple times while he laughed. I'm sure my blush didn't help any.

We trained into the night again, and I couldn't help but wonder what kind of schedule he had, that he could do that. I texted dad on the way home, and he replied that he'd be in bed by the time I got back, again. I found more leftovers on the table, but that was it today.

WED FEB 2

Today was the day. Today I would be social. Today I would-

I dropped to the ground as a bullet ricocheted somewhere nearby.

With my hands on the ground, I could see them. Two groups of men with guns shooting at each other from across the road in one of the run-down neighborhoods I ran through on my way to school. They were about four blocks away, if I'd kept going I would've passed within a street of them. Now that I was listening instead of working up my social anxiety, I could hear the pops from the guns.

This was stupid and dangerous. Who shoots things in a residential area?

I had to stop them.

...how do I do that?

I took stock of my gear. I had my bag with all my books and clothes for the day (I was going to shower and change at school) and the canteen of water. I had my pepper spray and baton. I did not feel ready for a gunfight.

I stopped to breathe and think. If I didn't want to fight, what were my options.

Well, why fight at all?

Rather, why let it be a fight at all?

I slapped the ground with one hand, and then punched it.

One of the groups was dragged into the pit of loose dirt that'd formed under their feet, along with the grass and concrete they'd been standing on.

I repeated the action with my other hand, and the other group was similarly trapped.

That... was easy. I pushed myself off the ground from my position resting both fists on the road, and listened for more shots.

Nothing.

I shrugged and started walking towards school again, digging out my phone and dialing 911 as I went. "Hello? There was some shooting near 14th and Stewart. I kept running by after I heard it, but I think it's stopped now..."

School was fine. The boys were starting to stop bothering me in the halls. I think they were finally figuring out I wasn't actually easy, a buyer, or a prostitute, so they could stop trying to get me to do something they wanted.

Lunch was also fine. I waved to Amy and Vicky on my way outside, and ate out by the trees with my shoes off again.

When school let out, I took a few fortifying breaths and made my way to the school's main entrance. There I found Vicky, somewhat more subdued than usual, and Amy. If I had to guess, she'd just poked her sister about her aura again.

"Hey, Taylor!" The sunny girl beamed.

"Hi, Vicky." I was already starting to feel tired of socializing. "Where are we going, and how are we getting there?"

"Oh!" Vicky clapped her hands excitedly. "I borrowed dad's car this morning. We're driving down to the boardwalk, is that okay?"

I nodded. "Should be, but the boardwalk's a little expensive for me." I blushed a little. "I... might not be getting much, if we're clothes shopping."

Vicky took a second to react. "Oh, pff," She made an exaggerated motion to go with her overacted scoff. "We're just window shopping, trying things on. Can always find deals at other stores when we know what we're looking for."

I'm fairly certain she was lying, and already started looking for excuses to take my shoes off when we got going. Their car was nice enough, nicer than dad's truck at least, but it wasn't new. It had a few dings, the inside was scuffed, it had a couple cans in the legroom in back, and I could spy a few partially-hidden fast food wrappers that hadn't been thrown out yet. It was just a car. I had no idea why that felt so surprising.

Vicky did her best to fill the silence. When I told her I hadn't really seen any new movies the past few years, and wasn't much of a music person, she started nattering on about her boyfriend Dean taking her to a local band night at some club last week. Amy mostly grumped in the passenger seat, busily working her phone. I was starting to recognize some of her tells, and she seemed grumpier than usual, though I couldn't figure out why.

We got out at a parking center, leaving our bags in the car, and walked the last two blocks to the boardwalk proper. I spied a couple of the suited enforcers milling about, and another standing and watching the crowd. Part of why I tended not to come here, compared to all the reasonably wealthy types that frequented these stores, I almost looked like a Merchant in my baggy, worn, and often stained normal clothing choices.

I made a mental note to do laundry. I was running low on nicer-looking things to wear to Arcadia.

Vicky almost squealed as she started dragging us into a store. It was bright and colorful, full of girly, thin clothing that didn't look like it'd survive a month of decent washing. I shook my head, getting things dumped on me and needing to ignore washing instructions to get crap out should be a thing of the past. Still felt like spending more than fifty bucks for a sewn-together box of tissues, though.

"C'mon, c'mon!" Vicky cheered, pawing at my hoodie. "Take that off, we need to get a good look at your sizes."

My eyes rolled, but I did as commanded, reaching down and pulling my hoodie up by the hem, almost taking my shirt with it over my head. I tossed it to Amy, righted my skewn glasses, and ruffled down my shirt- a dark blue small men's t-shirt I'd bought in a bulk pack because girl shirts cost five times as much. Not like I had any boobs to make the chest tight, anyway. It was a little baggy, and slightly short- it almost didn't reach my pants anymore, and every time I'd move my arms the hem would tug up and show a bit of skin at the waist. The only reason I was wearing it now was because it actually looked clean when it was, which was... basically the criterion for all of my Arcadia clothes.

Amy was trying not to smirk, and Vicky's lips were pursed as if I'd somehow insulted her. She drew a short breath. "Girl," She leaned in and whispered the rest. "how do you feel about ruffles?"

I stopped myself before I could ask why greasy potato chips were relevant. Ohhh no. She meant clothes. Mom'd had exactly three shirts with ruffles, for those days she was feeling especially girly. Dad and I'd take turns making fun of her for trying to look my age, him mostly because I was doing it and it was something to bond over, and me because I was a shitty ten-year-old brat. The thing was, she could pull it off. She had soft, well-proportioned curves that lent themselves to girlier blouses that had them.

By contrast, I was a stick. My chest and hips were wider than my waist sure, but I wouldn't have considered that true before I started working off the small gut I'd been building up through high school. Now my stomach was almost flat, and I had a sad facsimile of curves. I was boyish and plain, aside from my hair.

If there was one thing I had to make sure of this trip, there would be absolutely no ruffles.

Vicky was starting to look worried, and I realized I'd been standing there looking somewhat distraught for almost half a minute.

"No ruffles." I almost snapped. She looked like she wanted to argue. "No. I'm a gangly beanpole. Trying to put me in anything especially girly will just result in me looking like I'm trying to be five again." ...I miss mom. "No ruffles!" I pointed at her to accentuate my declaration.

"Aww," She whined. "but you'd look so cute in ruffles..."

Maybe I was wrong. Vicky was the one with the fashion knowledge here. She was intelligent, and knew her stuff. Maybe if they weren't in bright colors...

"Vicky, aura." Amy growled.

My thoughts snapped back to how they'd been before, the emotional whiplash almost painful. What the hell? I was angry. So very angry. She was messing with my head. Taking all the me, one of the few things I had left that I liked, and twisting it just enough that it's not mine anymore.

She started muttering out an apology before she caught the look of utter rage and disgust on my face and flinched back. I huffed in a few increasingly deep breaths, and said "I need a break."

So I left. I heard Vicky call out, but that just made me speed up. I was just... done. I needed a break. I needed to leave, but leaving would mean I gave up on being social, and that would be letting them win-

I stopped. This was about Emma again. It always came back to that fucking bitch Emma. Beating me down, betraying my secrets, getting other people to beat me down and manipulate me when it stopped working for her, continuing to beat me down as a punishment for not letting them trick me anymore...

My problem with Vicky was my problem with Emma. I started walking again, and kept going until I found a bench to sit down at. I just needed to calm down. Calm and centered. I kicked my shoes off, and let my steadily callusing feet touch the concrete. Now I could watch everyone, know that I was safe, and let my mind drift enough for the anger to flow away.

Deep breaths. Meditate. Let it go.

I wasn't sure how long it was, until someone came up to me. Sure, other people had come near and gone around, or stopped to look at the odd girl sitting on a bench with her eyes closed and hands laced together in her lap, but no one had actually come straight at me in my time sitting there.

With a sigh, I opened my eyes to find exactly what I expected. Amy, my hoodie tied around her waist like a sash, followed by a floating Victoria. The usually gloomy girl waved off her unusually glum sister, who stopped floating closer about five meters away.

She seemed to be at a loss for words when she stopped in front of me, so I patted the bench, and she sat down next to me. I didn't turn to look at her. I kept my eyes panning around the crowd, looking at people, at things, anything to keep Victoria in sight without looking right at her. "I'm sorry." Amy said at last. "There's two kinds of people who react to Vicky's aura. Unless she doesn't like you, everyone adores her when it's on. Some don't really stop liking her when they leave, even if they aren't compelled to anymore. They liked liking her, so they don't stop. Then there's people like you, who don't take having their emotions picked for them very well. They tend to hate her." I just sat, listening, faking serenity as hard as I could. She tried to speak and choked on her words a few times. I could see her in my earth senses; the little clenches of the jaw, half-started swallows, flutters of the eyes and eyelids as she thought. Her twitching tongue was fascinating.

I got so much information when I was focusing on something right next to me, it was hard to believe I could handle it all.

Amy was worried. Not in the normal way of someone confronting something unpleasant or an upcoming fight, and it didn't quite seem like fear of personal failure or under-performance... she was worried about something outside her control. And she was still trying to talk to me, after I'd ran out on them. Did... she still want to be my friend?

"You don't... have to be my friend if you don't want to." Amy said. "I'll understand."

She really wouldn't. She was desperate. How many friendships had she lost? How many times had her hopes been crushed? It reminded me of myself.

I sighed. I'd never be like Emma. Not even a little bit.

"I wouldn't still be here if I didn't want to be your friend. I could have run home, or gone to catch a bus." I waved my hand over to a relatively nearby bus stop. "But I didn't." This time when my eyes panned over, I met Vicky's eyes. She looked so wary and confused, fussing with her hands in front of her chest- the only things she had that would stand up to her strength, I imagined. I waved her over. She waited for a second, then started floating towards us.

Deep breaths. Her aura was off, at least as far as I could tell. People were staring, but confused. There was none of the awe I'd seen in the cafeteria at school, and none of the fear I'd read about online. I figured as long as I was aware enough to keep looking for the signs, I'd be fine.

Now I just needed to figure out what to say. "I'm sorry." I started, causing her and Amy to blink. "I might be... overreacting. I just..." Suck in air, hold it, hold it, release. "I don't like being manipulated." Pause for a beat. "Even if you didn't mean to, I felt so..." Words are hard. "used, after." For the first time since they got here, I dropped my eyes away from Vicky. I could still see with my feet- everything but her. Amy was giving me a sad, slightly pitying look though, and I could imagine something else on Victoria's face.

Then her feet touched the ground, and I could see that she was crying. "I'm sorry." She walked over, her hands leading towards me, and she stopped hesitantly. I raised my head, gave her a 'yeah, sure' head wobble, and found myself in the center-ish of a lopsided Dallon sandwich. Apparently Victoria felt Amy needed to be a part of this hug, too.

After we introverts finished our subdued hissing and spitting over being shoved into physical contact with other human beings, the hug settled into something vaguely approaching nice. If I were into girls, it'd be very nice. The two were soft and warm and- that's enough of that, thank you. I'm pretty sure I hid my small blush well enough. Still, it was Amy who started tugging away first, pulling away from myself and her sister, leaving the two of us in a bit of an awkward side-hug for a bit before Vicky giggled and floated away. She was just so bright and amazing and Amy cleared her throat meaningfully and the feeling vanished.

"Sorry! Sorry." Vicky was still smiling a little, but trying to force out some seriousness for the topic at hand. She must really be a physical person. I shoved down the envy creeping up in my mind. "I really am sorry, I don't mean to bring up bad feelings or bad memories," Her voice lowered a bit and she leaned closer. "I don't want to hurt or manipulate anyone. It just gets hard to control, sometimes."

I really couldn't relate. None of my powers were hard to control at all, once I'd gotten the hang of them. I couldn't relay this to them, either. I wanted to trust them, but I wasn't there yet. Still... "I'm, open to hanging out again with a little warning, after I've had a break to cool down some." I stood up, almost at height with Vicky floating a few inches off the ground. "I really want to like you..."

Her smile grew strained. "Yeah... I get it."

Nodding, I added, "I just need time to get used to power things, I guess."

Her nod was a little stronger than her smile had been. "Hey, how about we get some food, then we'll call it for today, that sound good?"

I weighted in it my mind for a moment and nodded. "That sounds fine." I sat down again to put my shoes back on.

"Why were your shoes off, anyway?" Vicky asked.

I paused, shrugged, and replied, "I just feel better with my shoes off, sometimes."

Vicky laughed and agreed, and led us off to the food places after I was ready to go.

We wound up getting wraps, and chatting about classes until we finished. I waved off their offer of a ride, and said I'd just take the bus home after a walk by the beach.

And that's exactly what I did. I took my shoes off again while I walked along the sand of the nicer beach by the boardwalk, the sand shifting around me slightly, churning a bit beneath the dunes, and hardening a bit under my feet to make walking through it less tiring. I spent almost an hour walking all the way into the less nice part of the beach by the old docks. There was trash here, wrappers and plastics, the odd bit of glass or the occasional needle, my senses through the sand were just good enough to warn me away from stepping on anything.

I came upon a rock, eventually. A small nub covered in graffiti sticking up out of the sands, but stepping up onto it, I saw that it extended down a ways, touching a few other rocks, which were touching more rocks, eventually spreading down into the ground around the city. My senses spread down through the tangled solid foam of caverns that made up the city's aquifer, and up away from them to the city itself. That was what I was after. Concentrating, I couldn't find anyone nearby, at least no one in a position to see me, so I started up the second half of my trip.

Walking down to the water, I couldn't help one last nervous glance around before I reached out and grabbed the waves, halting them. I strode up, pushing the water away from me while hardening the sand beneath my feet to keep from sinking. I pushed farther and farther in until I was almost eye-level with the water around me, standing on the sand in my own cylinder of air. Then I leaned down, and let the ocean fill in above me. I continued on a little ways farther, my hands swirling around me as I kept the water at bay, but it was getting harder. I wasn't quite ready for a casual ocean jaunt yet, but that wasn't the plan.

In seconds, the water around me started to freeze.

It took a few tries, unfreezing and re-freezing, but eventually I had a semi-sphere of ice clear enough I could roughly see through. Holding the water away from my improvised diving bell while holding it down to keep it from shooting to the surface was slightly easier than just bending the water away was. Sure, I'd be in a worse position if ambushed, but what were the odds of that? I was in the ocean. All the gangs were on land.

I started walking again, keeping an 'eye' out for trash under my feet, while looking through the hazy glass into the gloom of the bay. It was eerie and quiet and amazing.

Hours later, I made my way home. Dad broke his pattern and waited up for me, tonight.

"Bit of a surprise," He said, leading me to the kitchen where he had a couple boxes set on the table. "I thought about what you said, and your earth sense stuff is just too important to ignore." He gave me a look. "It's the sort of thing that'll keep you safe." He turned back to the boxes and opened them, revealing some worn out shoes. "So I made these, with a little help."

I took one, and was surprised when my fingers slipped under where the sole was supposed to be. I lifted it up, and while it looked mostly normal from the top and sides, the bottom had been carved out, with a couple elastic fabric bands like on underwear stretched somewhat tightly across the bare bottom, sewn and glued into the sides and top of the shoe's insides. I looked at dad, confused, and he just smiled and motioned for me to try them on.

The size was about right, if a little odd with a third-inch of material missing from the bottom of it. Still, they seemed functional as fake-shoes, looking almost right if you didn't know what to look for, and best of all- the straps barely hindered my senses at all. Sure, they probably needed some more padding glued in, the shoes were a little tall now, and the glue partly holding the straps in was starting to scratch, but otherwise?

"They're amazing!" I hugged dad. "Thank you, thank you." We hugged for a bit, then parted. "How did you make these?"

He smiled. "Well, I bought a few pairs of shoes in your size from the used bargain bins- already had worn out soles, so they were fine." At my scowling, he chuckled. "I sprayed them down with disinfectant, don't worry. Anyway, I got some help with sewing from Lacey and a couple others with some skill there, just a crash course in how to patch-sew a bit without poking through to the 'pretty' side too much. Didn't show them the actual project, though they know it was something for you." He grimaced a little. "Stiiill not sure I did it right, hence the glue to be sure. They won't last near as long as regular shoes, but they don't have to. All told, they're still cheaper than new shoes per pair by a bit."

I nodded. "We can always tweak the designs to make them better over time. Thanks again, dad."

"Anything to help, honey."

THU FEB 3

Today I decided to fill mom's travel thermos with tea, and lash the strap over my shoulder and under the backpack's straps while jogging to school. The old canteen I'd taken yesterday was sitting at home. Partly this was because I wanted to use mom's things more often, partly because I was trying to trust Arcadia to be less of a Winslow and giving them this one chance, but mostly it was just the thought of taking tea breaks on the multi-mile jog being nice. Plus, if anyone found out I was a cape, they might think me limited to only bending pure water for some crazy power bullshit reason.

I hadn't found anything liquid I couldn't bend, at least a little. The actual H2O content made less of a difference than how viscous or fluid something was. Trying to freeze things like oil was a little weird, though.

Made it to school fine and refilled the thermos with water when I got to the showers. Classes were okay, and Amy sat with me for lunch. I was in the cafeteria today. The shoes I had made me feel a lot more comfortable around crowds.

Amy and I mostly chatted about classes and little, inconsequential things like complaining about teachers and assignments. I got the feeling she was glad I still wanted to spend time with her after yesterday. She got silent for a bit, and I waited for whatever it was she had to say.

"I'm going to the bookstore tomorrow. No Vicky. Did you want to go?"

I thought about it and asked "No Vicky?" curiously.

She smirked. "Last time she followed me into a bookstore, I started picking raunchy novels off the shelves and reading them aloud until she ran away."

I grinned wickedly. "So you just happened to be near the raunchy books?"

She blushed and scrunched her face into an adorable pout. "Well I'm certainly not living vicariously through my sister."

Amy was really not happy with that thought, according to my feet. "What's so bad about that?" She gave me a scathing look. "Only child, I don't really get it." I explained.

"It's kinda' squicky." She huffed. "Also, her boyfriend is..." She snapped her mouth closed, like she hadn't intended to keep talking. She sighed and continued, though. "He's a nice enough guy, I just... don't like him?" The lilt of her voice made it sound like a question, and I wasn't sure she noticed. Her feelings were pretty muddled from what I could see, but she honestly felt grossed out by the whole thing... A thought occurred.

"Is it boys?" I'd leaned in and lowered my voice, but Amy still froze and glanced around. No one was in easy listening range for the volume I'd used, my feet were sure of it. "It's okay if it is."

She sighed, debated internally for a bit, then nodded. "Boys are gross." She muttered. "And I've seen what pregnancy looks like from the inside." She gave a morbid chuckle. "No, thank you." My senses weren't sure it was the whole truth, but it was far less muddled than what she'd said before.

"Okay, now I'm really curious."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Pregnancy is terrible. It's like the body primes itself to intentionally let a parasite latch on inside you, grow a big fluid abscess house for itself, and leech your body's resources for most of a year while it rearranges your organs to fit." She leans in conspiratorially. "And then you have to shit it out your sex hole."

Yeah no, that sounded pretty gross, and by the look on her face, she was greatly amused by my grossed out expression.

She kept grinning and added, "There is not enough nope in the world to express my feelings on the subject."

Well, I was done with lunch now. "Thanks so much for that. I'll meet you after school tomorrow?"

Bitch was cackling at me as I left.

After school, I stopped by to talk to Vicky and Amy on their way out, mostly to make sure Vicky knew there weren't any hard feelings, but that I wasn't sure what next week looked like yet. That, and weekends were for sleeping in and working out. This seemed to amuse the two, and they flew off towards the hospital in good spirits.

I went to the DWA after that, Jake and I wanted to work on incorporating the weapon fighting into my existing styles, rather than have me trying to switch forms inefficiently. This actually worked a lot better than expected, and five hours later I was proclaimed at the level of 'no longer hitting myself', or sufficient to have a pair of sturdy wooden training tonfas bestowed upon me. I was told to take good care of 'Smacky' and 'Thwacky', and now the names were stuck in my head forever.

When I told him I was busy tomorrow, he poked fun at me for having 'another date with my girlfriend' but admitted to also being busy, probably through the weekend. He seemed a little nervous, but I figured he probably had a match out of town coming up or something.

I spent the rest of the night, probably more than I should have, exploring the edges of the boat graveyard from underwater. I'd had the thought while I was there to use some of the spaces in the ships as hidey holes or maybe even a secret base, but I had no idea how I was going to keep the spaces water-tight, even if I got the water out of them. Thoughts for the future.

Last edited: Jan 29, 2020

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Dalxein

Jan 29, 2020

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Threadmarks Chapter 1.4 (Friends)

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Dalxein

Dalxein

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Jan 30, 2020

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Updates 9 and 10.

FRI FEB 4

I couldn't help being excited for today. The first time I was going to hang out with a friend since Emma. Sure there was the thing Wednesday, but that was a group thing and fell apart anyway. I stopped by Vicky's table at lunch, mostly to check we were still on with Amy, but got roped into introductions.

After Tara, Tammy, Kyle, Susan, Kara, Sherry, Jessie, and Stephen, I blanked the rest of them. Amy caught my far-off gaze and cackled internally at my pain, I was sure.

I begged off and headed outside. I needed a break, even if I'd only had to deal with them for a few minutes. I went around to what I was starting to think of as our bench, when I saw someone had beaten me there. A long-haired blonde in a trendy outfit.

"Uhm, hi?" I drew her attention. She looked me up and down dismissively. "I didn't know other people sat out here." It was certainly not the comfiest of benches.

"Hello." She sounded wary. "Wanted to get away for a bit."

"Yeah, same." I chuckled and sat down, extending my hand. "Taylor Hebert."

She looked at it for a second, then took it. "Cassie." She replied, turning back to her food. She looked almost done, actually. "What kind of name is 'Hebert', anyway?"

My senses pegged her as wary and unsure, though I had no idea why. Maybe she was just shy? I thought on it for a little bit. "It's Germanized French, I think. Dad says great-grandpa used to say it 'ahbear' before he got married."

"Huh." She seemed surprised. Less unsure about me now? "He changed it?" Curious. I shrugged. I honestly didn't remember that part of the story. Instead I asked her about her classes and managed to wheedle a few details out of her. She was a freshman, 14, was staying with one of her cousins but didn't want to go into details about it, and was intentionally not going out for any sports even though she could. I told her about my transfer from Winslow, not really knowing anyone yet, and about my dad's work in the docks.

Eventually she decided to head back inside. With a wave and a "See you around, Hebert." she was gone.

Well, that wasn't so bad, now was it?

I met Amy at the front gate. Vicky was heading off with some of the other girls to do some shopping. Apparently they had dates over the weekend they all wanted to get ready for, and were making an outing of it. Amy's gloomy mood seemed to fade as her sister's gushing voice did. I had a feeling something was going on there, but I decided not to press.

"So, where are we going?" I asked as we headed to the bus.

"The best bookstore in Brockton." Amy replied with a smirk.

I grinned back. "Have I heard of this place?"

She shrugged. "You didn't like going to the boardwalk, so probably not. It's not on the boardwalk, but close enough that people consider it a store there."

We filled the ride with chatter about books; favorites, recent reads, I started talking about some of mom's favorites, and things she'd read to me when I was younger, and Amy got quiet. I couldn't read her as easily through the chassis of the bus, even if I could see through the metal- which I hadn't figured out yet- the rumble of the engine and the jiggling of the suspension on the road would be a confusing mess I'd need to get used to first.

I followed Amy off the bus, and she led us down towards one of the ends of the boardwalk. We were getting into the less opulently decorated and well-maintained buildings by the time we turned onto a side-street. Three blocks of mostly restaurants and coffee shops later, we turned again and my heart caught in my throat. I remembered this place.

Just past a hobby shop, across from a clothier's shop and an apartment complex, sat Tukson's Book Trade. Mom's favorite store.

It took Amy hesitantly asking if I was okay for me to realize I was just standing there, tearing up. "Sorry," I sniffled, wiping at my face. "Never knew this place was by the boardwalk... always came at it from further in town." She gave me the time I needed to gather myself, though she was looking very curious. "I haven't been here in years. Not since before... mom..." I trailed off.

She hissed in a breath and muttered an expletive under her breath. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." She came closer, patting my shoulder. "We can do something else?"

"No." I shook my head. "It's time, I think. Let's go." I smiled at her and let her lead the way.

The door opened with a jingle, leading into a small foyer capped by another door. Amy made a point of waving at the obvious camera bubble on the wall before she continued on. I shuffled awkwardly, staring at it for a second before I chased after her.

It was just like I remembered, which terrified me a little. All these tiny details I hadn't noticed when I was younger. The cameras, how much of a killzone the front foyer was, how deep and angled all the shelves for the books I could feel with my feet were- I wouldn't be surprised if the fire sprinklers were separated into different systems by room to keep the other room's books dry if they had to go off. The whole place was subtly built to survive a siege with minimal damage.

"You okay?" Amy asked, watching me take in the main room while surveying the rest of the building. There was the front desk, with the door to the office behind it, the stairs from the office to the third floor, which was an apartment, there was a locked case by the front desk, full of the really old or rarer books. The shelves fanned out from there, almost a dozen on the first floor, and more on the second. There were a few other patrons around on the different floors, and someone shuffling around in the office moving boxes. I tried really hard not to notice the gun-shaped blobs I could sense under the counter.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She could tell I wasn't, but that was fine. "Where to?" She rolled her eyes and led me upstairs, to a little side corner, past a half-hearted '18+' sign I almost missed entirely, and started looking around shelves and pulling books.

"You, uhh... weren't kidding, huh?" I was blushing, barely keeping myself from stuttering.

"Nooope." She popped the end of the word, glanced at me, chuckled at my reaction, and went back to her aggressive browsing. "Not gonna lie, kinda' looking forward to having a friend I can talk about girls things with."

What? "But... I'm straight?"

She gave me a look, glowering daggers at me like I'd just asked her to give me 'the talk'. In detail. With diagrams. "Taylor, honey," her expression softened and she laid a hand on my shoulder. "I've seen you in the halls with the boys. You snub them harder than I do."

I blushed, harder this time. "Yeah, but..." I swiped her hand off of me, and glared at her smugly amused face. "That's just me not being some easy lay, not me hating boys."

Amy still looked amused, but the smug had shifted into concern. "You really don't notice how you look to other people, do you?" I glowered harder and shook my head. "Wow," she muttered. "Winslow did not teach you how to human properly, did it?"

"Beep fucking boop, Dallon." I snarled.

She snorted. "Okay, since I know you don't keep a finger on the pulse of the rumor mill, you should probably know you're already being talked about." My face froze, wide-eyed and staring at her. "Mostly just people thinking you're a rude loner, but it's getting to the point where people are going to start calling you an ice bitch, boys are going to stop trying to chat you up entirely, and you'll start getting more girls coming after you. I heard one of Vicky's friends wondering if you were a lesbian, but she'd fuck anything with tits, so that's on her." She must have noticed me hyperventilating a bit, and grabbed my shoulders. "Taylor, breathe. Hold it." I took a deep breath and held it for a five count before releasing it. Back to normal..ish. "My point being..." She slowly started again, "that I'm plugged into the rumor grid, and I can try to swing it any way you want. I didn't say anything because I was trying not to talk about you behind your back. I can just spread it around that Winslow left you seriously not happy being social right now, and you just need time."

Nothing she was saying pinged untrue to my senses, so I felt I had to trust her on this, despite my instincts to run and hide from anything social girly drama... "Yes. That sounds good. Maybe do that."

I flopped down into a nearby puffy chair, one of two in the 'adult' section of the store, and closed my eyes.

"You going to be okay?" Amy asked from the shelves. She was worried, but trying to act a little more aloof.

"I'll be fine." I answered. A few moments later I decided to elucidate. "I'm trying to meditate. Clear my mind, focus a bit. That sort of thing."

She muttered a 'yeah aight' and went back to deshelving what had to be a quarter of the books on that shelf. About ten, twenty minutes later- time was harder to keep track of while meditating deeply- she spoke up again. "Soooo... is that some new age spiritualist thing, or what?"

I glanced over to her, sitting casually in the other chair, skimming through a book that looked like someone took one of those penny-dreadful romance novels and photoshopped the guy on the cover out for another girl. "Not really. It's more about emotions. Focus and... self-control. I'm sure you noticed, but I've got problems getting a little... emotional when stressed. This helps with that."

Amy muttered something about 'self control' and asked, "So how would one get into that sort of thing? All I know is 'clear your mind' and that isn't really helpful."

"It wouldn't be." I responded, taking a moment to frame the explanation in my mind. "Actually completely clearing your mind is really hard. The human brain isn't meant to be clear, it's supposed to be alert and tracking half a dozen things to keep you alive. ...are you religious?"

She blinked and looked at me, taken aback by the non-sequitur. "Excuse me?"

I waved the question off. "It might have been a good way to segue into it if you were. The single most common form of meditation in the world is actually prayer." I'd looked it up. The parallels were actually pretty neat. "You clear your mind of everything but god, and whatever you want them to address. It's much closer to how proper meditation actually works than the Hollywood bullshit." She actually looked pretty interested now. "Sooo did you want to learn?"

She set her book to the side and nodded, so I told her about clearing her mind of everything but what she wanted to focus on, like her breathing, or whatever emotion she was feeling but didn't want to be like I was doing, or anything really.

I walked her through some breathing exercises, and we spent at least half an hour just sitting there like that for a while. Then someone cleared their throat.

"You know..." The tall, burly owner of the establishment said in his gravely baritone, pointing off to the side "we do have a tea room, if you just want to sit for a while."

We nodded, and got up to follow him. Amy grabbed her armful of books to look through, and the owner muttered, "Scarin' off all the payin' customers who just want to read their smut in peace..." while we walked, causing the both of us to blush. When we got there, on the opposite side of the second floor from the adult section, he unlocked the door and held it open for us. "Green tea fine?"

When I nodded and Amy didn't cite a preference, he nodded and headed off. We settled into comfy wooden chairs around short wooden table in the small room, and waited the few minutes it took for him to return with a fancy-looking faux-china tea set. "You look familiar." He said to me while setting out the tea things.

I sighed. "Yeah, my mom used to really like this place... Annette Hebert?"

He nodded. "Thought so. Me and Annette went way back, she helped hype my place up around campus, probably kept me in business after I took over." He rubbed his chin around his thick mutton chops. "Listen, you ever want the tea room, just ask. Won't even charge you for it." He turned to leave and muttered to himself. "Not like anyone ever takes me up on reserving the damn thing..." and then the door shut behind him and he was gone.

Amy and I looked at each other, amused, and started into our tea while she skimmed a few more books. She'd slid a few over to me to check out, but they were exactly the sort of thing I'd expected. Thinly veiled text porn, most of them involving leading guys, actually. One about a pair of guys, and the rest were the girls stories I was expecting. I didn't bother looking any deeper than categorizing them like that, though. I had no idea if I was into smut like this, but I felt weird testing lewd waters with a friend in the room.

Soon enough, the topic turned back to meditation, and I helped get Amy back in 'the zone' as she put it. Walking her through sitting comfortably and breathing steadily, then falling into it myself, meditating on meditating, as it were. I was still speaking softly to Amy as I did, helping keep time with breathing, but also popping in with other meditation facts and referencing advanced techniques in case they caught her interest. Pain reduction, tricking some of the body's processes, even a level of self-hypnosis that neither of us seemed interested in. I went on to talk about the body's energy, being able to feel and control it. It sounded like new age spiritualism, but that's one of the things the books- and my dreams, but I didn't talk about those- mentioned a lot.

It got a little weird when I started to actually feel it. I froze up, just teasing the sensations around my core, quiet long enough that Amy actually spoke up to ask if I was okay. I told her I was fine, and we kept working on it.

Tukson came back later to tell us he was closing up the shop. He didn't mind us staying after hours, but thought our parents might, which got us moving. Amy bought half a dozen books she said would keep her for a couple weeks, while I'd just blushed and said I wasn't getting anything today.

We headed off to catch the late buses home.

SAT FEB 5

I was on my way home from my morning run. I'd taken longer to get started because there wasn't any school today, so with extra weight training before it, it was a little after nine in the morning when my cell phone rang. I spent almost five seconds confused about the noise before I realized what it was. Everyone, even dad, just texted me. Who would be calling? "Hello?"

"Is this Taylor Herbert?" The voice on the other side was male, middle-aged, and confident. Whoever this was, they definitely seemed to think they had the right number already.

"Hebert, actually." The reflexive answer snapped out.

"Ahh, my apologies, I'll make a note to fix that in the incident report. This is Agent Michaels with the PRT, would you mind answering a few questions for me?"

I was so stunned all that came out at first was a muted "Oh." Shit. They knew who I was! Wait, how could they know? Why would they be calling me!? "Why... are you calling me?" I sounded almost as confused as I felt.

If he was confused by my confusion, it didn't show. That man was a professional. "You called in a gunfight on Wednesday, 14th and Stewart?"

Oh! "But that was just guns?" It said something about Brockton Bay that my question sounded reasonable, even after I'd asked it.

"Ma'am, we believe a cape was involved in the fight."

I paused, then, "I... all I heard was guns." Yes, feel the confusion, be the confusion. "I think there's been a misunderstanding, I didn't actually see the fight. I was on my morning run and heard guns, so I called it in. The guns stopped, so I left. I never saw the gangers, the guns, or any cape."

It took five seconds for him to respond. "You have good ears, ranging gunfire that well."

I barked out a hideous laugh. "I have experience, being a Brocktonite."

This time he chuckled. "Oh God, don't I know it. Thank you for your time, miss." He hung up.

I spent the rest of the run home silently freaking out.

Okay. So. Apparently Chi is a real thing. I tapped into the energy of my body yesterday. This is both really cool and unsettlingly freaky. There's an entire facet of my being I don't know how to use or control. This must be rectified.

Dad left after breakfast, picked up by Kurt. They said they were going to go bar hopping with the guys, but it seemed early for that, and my feet said they were both lying. Maybe Kurt and Lacey were taking dad out to meet women? It hurt a little thinking about Mom, but dad deserved a little more happiness. That'd be fine. I let them go with a smile.

Then I meditated. For six hours straight. Good news, I was pretty sure I knew which of the 'chi point' body diagrams I'd looked up online mine seemed to use. Bad news, that's basically all I learned today.

I made some sandwiches and was ready to move. Good thing it was training time. Gerard didn't completely dominate our spars today, which surprised me. I guess I was actually getting better.

After that, I was still feeling a bit burned out on meditating for today, I went down to the beach. It was right near where we were training, and a cool soak would do me good.

Swimming out a little ways, I just floated in the waves. I wasn't nearly as worried about riptides or floating out to sea as I would be if I didn't have my powers. Water control made the sea a lot less scary. Floating there, I let my mind drift and wander as I was rocked by the waves. I started lightly pushing and pulling the water around me, drawing in cooler water to help sooth my few aches faster. It was helping a lot. I actually felt really good. I looked down and splashed into the water.

Spluttering as I came back to the surface, I coughed out what water had gotten in, and goggled a bit. Was I... glowing?

That was weird. And mandated testing.

I swam the surprising distance back to the beach, shooting my way ashore with the help of my water powers, I flicked the water in my clothes away and started running home. It was only halfway there that I realized I probably should've just taken a bus.

Soaking in the tub, I tried to calm down and get the glow to happen again. It took a while to realize I'd been focusing on myself earlier, and turned my attention to one of the only big bruises I had from today. I drew water up around my arm and put my other hand over it. I closed my eyes and focused entirely on the bruise. Making it better. Fixing it. Healing it.

I opened my eyes minutes later to find the water under my hand softly glowing. I let it fall away and saw the bruise under it was gone. I poked at it. Okay, mostly gone. It wasn't visible anymore, anyway.

That was healing. I could heal. I was a healer!

I had to tell Am-

My mind froze. I couldn't tell Amy, could I? I liked her, and sort of trusted her, but...

I didn't know much about capes, but I did know that healers were rare. Rare, and sought after. Amy probably would've been kidnapped less than a week after she showed her power off, if she didn't have at least half a dozen other capes that would've come right after whoever did it.

I spent the rest of the night healing my bruises and trying not to freak out about my trust issues.

SUN FEB 6

After my usual morning exercise, I decided that healing shouldn't be my priority right now. I knew it'd be amazing to be able to fix people, but when was I going to use it? I didn't have any plans to start healing people like Amy did as Panacea, at least until I was good at it, and the only person I'd regularly be healing until then was myself after training. Just not a priority.

The meditating, however...

I had a feeling that controlling my energy and my body would help me control my mind. The mind was really just neurons and chemicals, right? If you could sense the brain, control it from within, that should help resist mental effects, right? Looking it up online lead to dead ends. There was mention of anti-mind-control training, but how useful that training was is heavily debated. None of the training itself seemed to be up there, probably to keep counters from being made.

Wrangling the energy was easier today, though. Still spent almost five hours on it before making lunch. The news while I ate was talking about Uber and Leet, and the heist they pulled at the museum earlier this week. Some Faberge egg exibit? Leet was nowhere to be seen, but Uber dressed up like some brightly colored steampunk apocalypse survivor held off the cops and capes with some power-granting energy thing while an orange weasel bot gathered loot.

Everyone was focused on the caper itself, but I couldn't get over the fact that Leet apparently made Othala in a bottle. Sure it'd fizzled and they'd needed to retreat, but Tinkers were still fucking bullshit.

On my run to the docks for martial arts training, I started texting Amy, slowing to a walk to type.

'Hey Amy. Going to practice meditating again tomorrow. Wanna go to Tukson's, or hang out at one of our places?'

'Y u need practice?' That was kind of insulting, actually... unless she meant "why do you need practice, when you're teaching me?" That made more sense.

'I have my reasons. Very good ones!' It sounded better in my head.

'If its a doc thing, I get it.' Did she think I was seeing a therapist? ...should I be seeing a therapist? I shook my head. Problems for later.

'...yes.'

The reply took a minute this time, longer than the others. 'did u jst put dots to fck up yr own lie?'

'...no?' I replied before I could think about it. 'Fuck.'

Her reply made me stumble, so I stopped. 'Yr fkn adorable. Free M/W/F, wtvr works.' I was blushing. From a text conversation. How does that even happen?

'Yes. All of those. Let's do it.'

'Phrasing, grl. Not that easy a lay. XD' My blush was nuclear now.

'Still straight, you're the worst.'

'Im the fkn best n u no it'

I smiled. 'I shall allow you to continue believing as such.'

'Lol kk' Having friends again was confusing, but nice.

More training. Hadn't heard from Sue or Jake in a while, might need to ask about them sometime.

Got home, spent a couple hours healing the worst of my injuries, and spent the evening watching a movie with dad.

MON FEB 7

When I got to school, I stopped, staring at a blank hedge, focused on what was behind it. Sitting curled up under one of the school's bike racks was a young girl. She couldn't be old enough to go to Arcadia yet, so why was she here? I ducked through the gate and made my way over.

"Hey, you okay?"

The girl looked up, hands uncurling from around her head. Her eyes were misty and a little red. She shook her head with a slight wince at the motion.

I slowly sat myself down next to her. "Do you need help?"

She looked wary for a few seconds, before she winced and her eyes widened. "You'd believe me?"

I tilted my head, confused. "Believe you about what?"

"The numbers."

...oookay. "What numbers?"

"When I ask the right questions, I get flashes and numbers in my head. High numbers happen, low numbers don't." The girl said, haltingly. She seemed like she was having trouble talking. It must've been her headache.

I was shocked, but I had to be sure. "These are questions about the future?" She nodded. Holy shit, this girl was a precog. "And... the headache?"

"Asked too many. Hurts." I nodded, that sounded like something powers would do.

"And why are you here? I don't think you go to school here."

"Numbers are better near the Wards."

That floored me. She knew the Wards were here? I mean, everyone knew the Wards were here, but for her power to take that into account? Did... could she tell I was a parahuman?

She was staring at me while I ran through my internal rambling and panic, eventually she winced harder than ever and muttered, wide-eyed, "You're a-?"

Well shit. That answered that. I shushed her. "Secret, okay?" She nodded slowly, to keep from upsetting her head. "You need help. Do you have someone I can call?"

She was getting worse. She had trouble fishing her phone out of her pocket. It was a rather high-end smartphone. I slowly took it from her, but it was locked. I held it out to her and she unlocked it. "Who do I call?"

Her head rolled a little as she thought out loud. "Mom busy... Dad work... Uncle Roy... work... Rory?"

"Who's Rory?" I asked as I maneuvered through her contacts list.

"Kuh... cousin." She was really bad now. I called the number.

It took six rings for the guy on the other side to pick up. "Dinah?" That must be the girl's name. Why hadn't I asked her for her name? "Shouldn't you be at school?" He sounded a little groggy. Maybe he just woke up?

"My name's Taylor." I said, and all sounds on the other end of the phone stopped. "Dinah's not... well. She has a really bad headache. Having trouble talking, asked me to call you."

"Shit." I heard rapid rustling on the other end now. "Where are you?"

"Arcadia, just inside the front gate by the bike racks. I can get her out front, I think?"

"No, let her rest. I'll be there soon. Ten, fifteen minutes." He hung up.

I gave Dinah her phone back. "He's on his way. Are you going to be okay?"

She winced. "22.9 percent."

Oh, shit. "I'm sorry. I-" I had no idea what would set it off. Best to avoid any questions. How to not phrase it like a question? I couldn't think of a way, so I had to hope. "Can you go to the PRT about your powers? Why not join the Wards?" No wince, that was good.

She tried to shake her head, but stopped. "Numbers bad."

I took a deep breath. Well, nothing else for it, then. "I'm giving you my number." I rummaged through my bag, tore out a sheet of paper, and tore off a chunk to write it down on. "If you ever need anything, call me." She nodded.

I tried to think of small-talk while we waited, but the thought of asking more questions made me a little sick to my stomach. Hurting this poor thing just to quell boredom? I slipped into meditating. Focus on the feeling, don't let it have control.

It was another ten minutes or so when an older boy made his way in the gate and around to us. He was tall, sandy blonde, and buff. Handsome, but his muscles hung off his frame in a bulky, unappealing bodybuilder sort of way. He scooped Dinah up in his arms and smiled at me. "Thank you for helping her."

He made his way back to his car, parked on the curb. I still wanted to help, but wasn't sure what I could do. A thought came to me as he was heading back around to the driver's side after putting Dinah in. "Wait!" I scribbled another note on the paper, tearing it off. "Here." He looked a little confused. "If Dinah ever needs anything, if you need help with her or something..." goddamn, but I was awkward. "I want to help."

He took my number and smiled at me. "Thanks. I'm Rory, by the way." He held out his hand, and I shook it.

"Taylor."

"I really have to go," he pointed his thumb back at his car, still holding a panting little girl. "I'll see you around?"

I nodded. "Sure!"

He drove off, and I was still smiling. I helped. I'd helped.

I felt good. I felt heroic.

Then I remembered I'd run to school, and that I'd just given a boy my number while smelling like a barn.

Good mood dead.

I ran to the showers.

I waved at Cassie in the hall, and she waved back, a little confused. I sat with Amy at lunch and asked her about being a healer. She started telling me about being a cape before I stopped her and reiterated my question about being a healer. That seemed to take her aback, and she talked about going in three or four days a week, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and at least one weekend day.

She talked a little bit about her powers, how she could see biology and fix most things. Amy seemed really hesitant talking about it, almost like she was lying. She must've just been shy about how great a healer she was, or something. We made plans to head to the bookstore again after school, and headed back to class.

Tukson's block was really busy today, and I had no idea why, so I asked Amy about it.

"Parian's in today." When I looked confused, she added, "Cloth cape, she makes clothes. That's her shop over there. Heard she was renaming it, soon. Anyway, all the cape geeks and tourists drop by whenever she's scheduled to be in, usually early in the week."

"Does she make costumes?" I still didn't have a costume. Maybe this is how I could get one?

Amy rolled her hand in a 'sort of' gesture. "She'll make any costume you want, so long as you can pay for it. She doesn't do armored or properly padded gear, though." Well that was disappointing. "She says it's because she's a neutral and isn't arming either side, but I'm pretty sure she's got a deal with the PRT where they leave her alone so long as they're the only legal way for capes to get on-brand tactical gear anything close to easily."

Wait... "Isn't that... kinda' scummy?"

She snorted. "Government being 'scummy', call the presses, I think you've got a scoop there." She saw the hurt expression I couldn't force down, and her grin drooped. "Listen, you're not a cape-" I tensed, but she'd already turned to keep walking and didn't notice. "so you don't interact with them, but the PRT? They're all about looking good, and being the law, in that order. If we're really lucky, then 'actually upholding the law' will be number three today." She turned to regard me seriously. "Do not fuck with them, okay?"

I nodded, and we made the rest of the trip down the block in silence.

When we got there, Tukson was sitting at the front counter, reading a book and looking pretty bored. The store had a lot more business than last time, though. He turned his attention to us almost as soon as we entered, so I'm pretty sure he just looked like he was reading while watching the room.

"Uhhm, hi?" I was nervous. I'd never asked for special services anywhere before. Shut up, brain, don't make this lewd. I still blushed a little. "Is the tea room open?"

He nodded with a smile and told us to follow him up. I tried making small talk.

"So, pretty busy today?"

"Yeah," He said from ahead of us. "Parian's days always are. It's good for business, I get more customers, but I've also gotta watch for thieves more."

"You get a lot of those?" Amy asked.

He shrugged. "Not as many as other stores, but the rats come out when the people do. They like the crowds." He unlocked the door and let us in. "They know I can't shoot them if they duck into a crowd."

Holy shit truth, what the actual fuck, Tukson!?

Amy was laughing though, so I forced out a nervous chuckle of my own and tried to ignore the guns I still felt locked up under the store's front counter.

We had green tea again. I taught Amy more about how to make her mind a happier place, and also how to make a 'happy place' in her mind. We stopped in at Parian's after that, but she'd already left for the day by then. It was neat seeing all the fancier clothes without the usual department store pressure to buy things, though. Part of that was how expensive everything was. They fully expected people to drop in just to browse the parahuman-made clothing with its parahuman-made price tag.

Parted ways after that, and I went to train a bit more with Gerard after his usual work hours were done.

Then I met dad after his work was done for the day. The ride home was quiet, if a little tense, until-

"Your... grandmother is coming to visit, in a couple weeks."

Gram was? I'd gotten a call from her on the landline over the weekend, but she'd just said there was extra money in my account this month. She'd sounded a little tense about it, probably something about my hospital stay, but I wasn't sure. Maybe it was getting harder to read people without my extra senses? Was I relying on them too much?

"That's... great? It's been a while since I've actually seen her." I'd known she had problems with my parents, but she'd always been pretty good to me.

"She..." He tried to say something, but the words failed him. "Anyway, she'll be around for a while this time. I'm not sure how long, but at least a week or so."

"But what about her business?"

"She cleared time for you, little owl."

Oh. She was probably scared of losing me like mom, after the hospital. That made me feel pretty terrible, having not really thought about how she must be feeling. "Okay." It wasn't much, but it was all I could think to say to that.

TUE FEB 8

I decided to sit with Cassie today. She wasn't sitting with a big group, and she wasn't the only girl, so I felt mostly okay with trying it out. I said hi and asked to sit with them, which they were fine with. Cassie seemed a bit shy about it, though. They tried to keep me engaged with what they were talking about, but when it wasn't classes, it was sports, which didn't interest me at all. It wasn't a terrible experience, but I preferred the one-on-one lunches.

More martial arts training, then I decided to run home. Some motorcycles were coming up behind me on my run, so I turned to check and froze.

Even at this distance, I recognized them, mostly by their headgear. I might've dismissed the woman with the American flag scarf, enough bikers did that, even with Miss Militia in town. Hard to miss a giant lion head, though.

I nervously waved at them, because what else do you do when heroes ride on by?

Triumph made a motion to MM, and they started slowing down. They were stopping. Oh god why were they stopping!?

They kicked to a stop on the road next to where I was on the sidewalk. "Hello, citizen!" Triumph boomed.

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhhaaaaaaiii?" When my internal screaming tried to become external, I masterfully re-orchestrated the sound into a greeting.

They chuckled, and he continued. "How have you been tonight?" Wow that seemed personal, and he about-faced when I paused too long. "Seen anything amiss?"

"No, I'm fine." I panicked. I shook my head and tried again. "I'm doing great, and there's nothing off around I can see." It was even true, no obvious crime for ten blocks around. "How are you? I mean- aren't you busy?"

Again with the chuckles, but Miss Militia answered this time. "It's been a fairly quiet night, there's no harm taking a few minutes for a fan."

OH! I grabbed my bag and dug through it for a notebook and pen.

"That looks heavy." She noted. "You were running with that?"

I winced. "It's not as heavy as it looks, and I've been working out."

She took the explanation at face value, I got a couple autographs, waves were exchanged, and they left to continue their patrol.

I didn't stop freaking out until I had the chance to meditate at home. Then I healed the worst of my bruises and went to bed.

WED FEB 9

I went to talk to Cassie again today. She was sitting with a bigger group, so I didn't want to stay, but when she saw me coming closer, she got up to meet me, leading me outside.

"You know, you might want to sit with someone else." She said, almost angry.

I couldn't help but ask "What's wrong?"

She sighed. "Think for a second about who I sit with. What do they all have in common?"

Well, I didn't remember it perfectly, but they all seemed normal. Like the rest of Arcadia's students. It took me a second to realize they were all white. My eyes went wide. "You're-"

"Don't say it!" She shushed me. "But yeah. If you keep trying to sit with me, people are going to talk." She looked askance at me. "Unless you want to be-"

"No!" I was probably louder than I needed to be. I tried again at normal volume. "No, I just didn't think-" '-that you were like that', I didn't finish.

"Yeah, ya didn't." She snarked back. I flinched away, and she sighed. "Look, I'm fine being friends, I just don't want you accidentally recruiting yourself, associating with them." Everything she'd said so far seemed honest, to my senses.

Her phone dinged a couple times, and she groaned. "Look," She dug out some paper and wrote her number down. "we can hang out after school sometime, maybe. I've got to go." She handed me the note and left.

Dazed and confused, I sat myself down on my bench and ate my lunch in slow, heavy silence.

Apparently, it was recently made canon that Rune's name is 'Tammi'.

I have no intention of going back and changing anything.

The Dinah encounter was three high rolls (Encounter chanceGang/nongangnongang tableNoncombat table) and then a crit for 'who' the encounter is with.

Tukson was originally planned to be a bit of a throwaway character, but then votes dictated OC characters would have more screen time / sroty impact, so he stuck around. Had I known, I probably would have changed the names around like I've done for a lot of the later character expy references.

I did roll to see if he was an animal form parahuman or something, but that didn't pan out. So I went with the much more interesting backstory of him having run with Lustrum back when he went by 'Samantha' instead of 'Samuel', and that's how he knew Annette. He later figured out a lot of his problems with the world were more personal gender than societal inequity towards said gender, which I'm told is a thing that actually happened occasionally with members of radical feminist movements.

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Jan 30, 2020

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Threadmarks Chapter 1.5 (Costume) New

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Dalxein

Dalxein

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Jan 31, 2020

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#26

Part of update 10, and all of update 11.

WED FEB 9

Amy met me after school, but dragged me back inside instead of leaving. We found an empty room, and she turned to me with an angry look. "You were hanging out with Herren." She was watching me at lunch? I was stunned and confused, so she continued. "She's empire. I thought the first time was an accident, but I saw you trying again today. She's fucking trouble."

"I know," I tried to placate her, but saying that only seemed to make her angrier. "I know that now. She told me, after we left."

She seemed a little less angry. "And?"

"And, she seemed to really be trying to push me away from the Empire kids."

She huffed. "Probably a trick."

I snorted. "I don't see how." She was about to start again, so I interrupted. "Look, Amy. I know she could be trouble, but I'm not going to just cut out a full third of the people I socialize with at this school without at least trying to understand her situation a little."

She stared at me for half a minute, and when I didn't back down, she sighed. "Be safe about it, at least? No being alone, no groups she set up, no letting her lead you into an ambush?" She asked, "And no trying to sit at the fucking Empire table at lunch?"

"That all sounds incredibly reasonable." Now maybe she could stop being in such a snit, and we could get on with our day?

She shook her head with a huff. "You're a barrel of trouble, you know that?"

I smiled. "Yeah, I know. So, Tukson's?"

"Nah, closed Wednesdays." She shrugged. "Could go to your place? Or mine, I guess." She added with a shrug.

Amy really didn't sound enthused about going to her place. "It's fine, my place works."

We took the bus into the north docks area where I lived, Amy explaining a bit more about the cliques around school as we went. According to her, the 'table she warned me away from' in her words- apparently calling it the Empire table in the middle of a bus full of other students was a faux pas- used to be one of the tables full of Medhall kids whose parents all knew each other. Then 'Herren' and some of the other local bigots shifted into that circle and it just got worse from there. I still had no idea what Amy's problem with Cassie was, and she just blustered and changed the subject when asked.

She'd gone on to talk about some of the other groups, but they were usual high school fare. There was a group of 'pretty socialites' that hadn't been folded into Vicky's group, but they didn't like either of them very much.

We got off the bus and walked the rest of the way home. I got the feeling Amy wasn't impressed with the state of our house, but I hadn't expected anything else. I warned her about the bad step, and then we were inside. Amy got the basic tour; the living room, kitchen/dining room, and the downstairs half-bathroom. Then we went upstairs, and I pointed out the guest room and dad's room, showed her the bathroom, and led her to my room.

I paused just inside the door, shrinking back a bit. This let Amy into the room, and she looked around for a second before she noticed I was still scrunched up. "What's wrong?"

"I just... remembering I haven't brought anyone over since..." I trailed off, not able to finish forming the words.

She sidled up slowly, just outside of touching distance. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I thought about it, slowly breathing harder and building up steam to answer one way or another. "I had a friend. Known her longer than I can remember. She was..." My thoughts stalled and I changed it up. "We brought our families together. Her big sister Anne... I believed it when they joked she was named after my mom for so many years, we were that close." I flopped down onto my bed, and Amy followed more softly. "I told her all my secrets, hopes, dreams... we were sisters."

My hands clenched as I hunched over, so frustrated thinking about it, but anger wouldn't help here. I took a few deep breaths, and unclenched my teeth. "She spent the past two years ruining every part of my life that she could, and I have no idea why." I turned watery eyes towards Amy. "You were my first friend in more than a year."

Her hand raised hesitantly, before she laid it on mine. I saw her lips part, words try to form, all empty platitudes, all discarded.

I tensed. "I'm sorry, I don't want to turn this into a pity party... don't want you to keep being my friend because I guilted you into it..."

She tightened her hand around mine. "Hey, no." She shook my clenched fist in her hand and drew my eyes back up to hers. "Shit sucks, I get it. I'd feel the same way." I looked down and away. Knowing what I did about her power, she could probably feel my shame and mistrust in my hormones and body rhythms better than I could sense things about her at my best. "I know I look like some social butterfly to the average asshole looking on while I'm with Vicky, but... all of my friends are really her friends, so really... you were my first real friend in a while, too."

Truth. Her breathing and pulse were steady, no abnormalities, easy to tell with skin contact. My fist unclenched with the rest of my body and I took her hand properly. We sat like that for what had to be a few minutes while I collected myself.

"They were... bad. Ruining my work, driving friends away, turning everyone against me. Stupid pranks ruining my stuff, pushing, shoving, cornering me..." I sniffled. "And then they... and then I..." I squeezed her hand and tried not to cry.

"And then you got powers."

I stared incredulously at her, and she raised our hands- fingers still laced together. I groaned.

"Right, brain structures." I slapped my forehead with my free hand, and I could feel Amy smiling.

"Well yeah, but I was sort of expecting it. Remember when I dragged you back into the school earlier?" I did, she'd been a bit forceful and insistent. I pushed down the unhelpful flare of distrust at having my secrets exposed. "I got a decent look at your brain by accident. Knew you could get powers, but I was trying really hard to ignore any you had." I tilted my head in confusion. She wiggled her hand in the air. "It's sort of like walking in on your mom changing- er, dad? Sorry." She was embarrassed and blushing. Was she turned on seeing her mom naked? Little weird, but I could kinda' see it. Brandish was still a fairly attractive woman. I also appreciated Amy trying to dodge the topic of my mom, however little it helped otherwise. "Anyway, even if something's seared into your memory forever, you can still try to push it down and ignore details."

The silence stretched on from there. I turned to glance ruefully at her and she rolled her eyes.

"So, what powers did you get?"

I held my free hand up between us and the air above it ignited into a fireball almost the size of her face. She fell backward with a startled 'bwak' sound that had me rolling around laughing as soon as I snuffed the fire out. She got up from where she'd rolled right off my bed and glared at me.

Amy huffed and dusted herself off. "Always with the fucking 'blaster surprise' whenever I ask that question." She glowered down at me. "So what, fire powers?"

I shook my head. "Classical elements. I'm a little stronger and faster than I should be, too." I debated a bit, laying there where I'd flopped laughing earlier. "And... you remember what I asked a while back? About..." I waved my hands between us.

"About being a cape?" She thought, then her eyes widened. "You're a healer?"

I nodded. "Not too good at it, just scratches and bruises, but yeah. I can use water to heal."

"Holy shit." She sat down again. "That's... a really diverse power set. How strong are your elemental powers?"

"Pretty strong." I was about to tell her about my earth senses, but then I realized that would be telling her about my lie detection, too. That was... not a good idea. I shook away the shudder at the thought, and kept going. "I'm strongest with earth right now, but I'm getting better with the others, too." I hopped up off the bed, grinning. "C'mon! I'll show you."

I led her downstairs and out the back, to the still mostly barren patch of former garden I'd first practiced earthbending on. "I can send rocks and dirt flying really fast. I haven't found a serious upper limit for how much I can control at once, but I know it's a thing. How many objects and how intricately I control them is the biggest limiter." I punched a fist upward to raise a trio of small pillars, then stamped the ground to form a wall behind them. "Shifting things around like this is really easy. It's holding things in the air that's tricky." Just for fun, I made a packed earth throne right after that and invited Amy to sit. When she didn't, I plopped down into it. The hardness of it didn't bother me any.

"You said that's one of your powers?" Amy was wary now. Hesitant. I wasn't sure why. I nodded. It was still bright out, and I couldn't see anyone nearby- all the neighbors adjacent to us were still out or at work. I might be excited to show off a bit, but that was no reason to be reckless about it.

I motioned Amy off to the side a ways, and she scurried away. Then I let out a concussive blast of fire, blowing apart one of the pillars. I got up and let a short stream of fire blow into the next, keeping my breathing steady and strong to push the stream harder and hotter. By the time I was next to it, the pillar of packed dirt was starting to smolder. A few seconds later it started to smoke in earnest, and ten seconds later it toppled over, the lower part of the base molten. I glanced over to Amy, who was starting to sweat a bit. It was a little warm now, and thinking about it, that was pretty terrifying. It was no wonder she was a little scared. "Whoops." I gathered up the air around us, funneling the heat up and away faster, blowing the smoke away while I was at it. "Well, already halfway through the set, might as well keep going?" I asked Amy, who gave a hesitant smile. I swiped the air at the last pillar, clawing out a small trough in the face of it, but otherwise just splashing along the pillar and ground behind it, kicking up some of the dirt.

I grumbled. "Stiiiill can't manage the 'cutting' trick." Oh well, I had something else that could cut. I unscrewed the cap on the thermos at my side, drawing just over a liter of water out of it. I slashed the water into the pillar, which slowly slid off and onto the ground. I drew the water back to myself and tried to form it into a sword shape when I froze it. ...really more of a club, there. I gave it an experimental swing and it snapped in a couple places. "Good to know." I knew ice was brittle, but...

Amy was staring at me, wide-eyed. I was pretty sure the only reason she wasn't hyperventilating was a lack of breathing entirely. "Amy?" I asked, and she flinched a little. "Are you okay? I didn't think I was that scary..."

She took a few deep breaths and came closer. That was a good sign. "Taylor, that stuff with the earth? It reminded me of what Kaiser can do with metal." Oh. ...was it bad that my first thought was 'why isn't he more impressive, then'? Because seriously, if he was some sort of 'metalbender'- mental note, see if that's a thing- then why didn't he control the city already? Metal was everywhere in a modern city. Amy wasn't done, though. "I'm not sure there's anything Stormtiger can do that you can't-" Why all the comparisons to Nazis? "the water stuff is pretty impressive too, and the fire? I don't think Lung has that kind of power or control unless he's in a fight already."

I winced. "Yeah, I've... been avoiding the fire. It's hundreds of degrees even when I try to keep it cool," It'd checked. "and after that it just makes the fire weaker, and..." oh no, I was rambling. Internally, I told myself to shut up, and then gave Amy a pleading look.

She came a bit closer. "Hey, it's okay." Apparently my look was less 'please help I'm awkward' and more 'please tell me I'm not a monster' because she looked about ready to hug me. "I'm just a little surprised. That's a really potent, versatile set of powers. If you're not one of the top five capes in the city I'll-" she rolled her eyes and shrugged, giving off a hapless wave of her hands. "well okay, if you're not top ten I'll eat my shoe, still pretty sure you're top five, though." That... actually meant a lot, coming from someone I'd rank similarly.

"So, you haven't been out caping at all?" Amy asked, when I stayed quiet.

I shrugged. "Should I have?" I shook my head. "Really no point to it, yet. I'm not going to suddenly beat all the gangs, and trying would just paint a target on my back. I'm still training, and still getting-" stronger, I wanted to say, but capes like that were rarer than healers. "-used to my powers. I know I could be out there doing some small amount of good for the city, but it's better if I just wait until I'm ready to actually take on some of the bigger names."

Amy gave me a weird look and I asked about it. "Just... not sure anyone I know could just sit around, happy to train up." She sidled up and nudged me. "You're really weird, for a cape."

My foot tapped the ground, and a dirt wall shot up behind me at bench-height. I sat back onto it while scrunching in on myself. "I really am, huh?"

"Hey," She sat next to me. "enough of the downer mood swings, what's wrong this time?"

I grumbled, not really sure how to explain it. "I'm really good at martial arts." Her eyebrow quirked up and I had to cut in before she could. "No, like, ridiculously good. I hadn't learned to throw a punch before I got powers, but now I'm proficient in more styles than I can name. Not even kidding, I don't know half the names!" I threw up my arms and hopped up to start pacing. "I started learning from people who were good at it, and I got better at it scary fast. All of them think I'm just a rusty black belt getting back into it or something. And then there's the dreams." I turned to point accusingly at Amy. "Parahumans just know how their powers work, right? You just knew?" She nodded and I shook my head. "I didn't get that. Instead I get dreams showing me things I can do, but then I have to train with it until it clicks in my head, then it's like an instinct I didn't know I had."

She looked at me weirdly for that. Confused and wary, again. I was slowly building toward hyperventilating, forcing myself to stop when I noticed and sit back down. The deeper breaths weren't helping as much as I'd hoped, but at least I wouldn't pass out now.

"There's something in my head," I whined pitifully. "putting things in my brain, and I have no idea how to stop it." I sobbed and wrapped myself around her when she made a motion towards me. For all that she seemed supremely uncomfortable with the situation, she took my hand in hers again and hummed.

"Well, you don't look all that different from any other parahuman." She was forcing herself to project some much-needed calm into the situation. "Your Gemma's on the small side, but it's incredibly well-connected. Nothing I haven't seen before, though."

"So you think powers might just be in our heads messing with things?"

Amy chuckled ruefully. "I would really rather not think about it." She said more cheerfully than either of us felt. I still heard her muttered "...makes sense, though."

I shifted to start untangling myself from her, pulling my head from her shoulder and shyly shuffling to my full height, slightly taller than her even sitting. "So yeah, I don't like mind things..."

She latched onto the subject change. "Is that why you've been doing all that meditation stuff?"

I nodded. "I have this... internal energy? And some intuition tells me that it'll help with mind stuff if I learn to control it better."

"Huh." Amy chuffed in surprise. "A power intuition?"

"I... guess?" Huh. Maybe I do get those?

"Soooo..." Amy was smirking. "Are you going to teach me how to touch my chi?"

I gave her the most deadpan stare I could muster. "I'm fairly certain given your reading habits that you have no difficulties touching yourself." We both blushed at that, her more than me, thankfully.

She grinned. "Yeah, but with you teaching me, it's almost like we're doing it... together?"

"Okay, enough!" My blush was nuclear now, and hers wasn't much better. "Still straight!"

She cackled, but nodded. "Alright, mind stuff."

We settled down on the lawn, and I helped walk her through centering herself, like I usually did. I told her some of the things I was feeling with my energy, which she said sounded like new-age hullabaloo. Literally what she called it.

It wasn't long before I started to feel it. Focused as I was on Amy, my mind slipped occasionally, and sometimes some of my energy would sort of... meld into the ground. It took me a while to figure out what was happening, but when I did?

Apparently my energy was going into the grass.

"Taylor, you okay?" Apparently I'd gone silent.

"New power thing, maybe?" I described what was happening, which she declared utter horseshit- not because she didn't believe me, but because I had yet another power- and told me to focus on that for a while, don't mind her.

We sat like that for a while before a throat cleared nearby.

I'd been so focused on the grass I was ignoring my other senses. Dad was home, and his raised eyebrow demanded information.

"Dad, this is Amy. Amy, this is my dad, Danny Hebert."

We didn't get up, so dad waved his hand Amy's direction. "So is she a new friend, oooor...?"

"Still straight!" I flopped back into the grass and screamed defiance to the heavens.

I was familiar enough with dad to tell he was mouthing 'is that a thing?' silently to Amy, who exploded into snortgiggles immediately after. I growled indignantly and stomped my various limbs righteously, which for some reason just made the traitors laugh harder.

"I told Amy I'm a cape." That shut them up.

"He knows?" Amy muttered, drowned out by dad.

"Why would you-?" Dad started.

"She's Panacea, dad." I cut in.

He took a moment to reassess the mousy girl I'd brought home. "Huh." He paused for a second before reiterating his question in a more reasonable tone. "But why would you?"

Actually not a bad question, after thinking about it. "Because having a friend my own age who understands is nice? And also that I can talk to, and plan with, and-"

"Alright, I get it." He held his hands up in defeat. "You're just sitting here meditating, though? Kinda' figured if you'd be practicing anything, it'd be your martial arts stuff."

My eyes lit up. "Ooh! That's a good point!" I turned to Amy. "I need to show you how to hit people."

Her eyes rolled. "I know how to hit people. I've been to a few self-defense courses."

"Yeah, but I can show you better." I grinned. "Plus then I get to punch you for earlier."

This had her startled. "But why?"

I shrugged. "You have a very punchable personality?"

"You bitch!" Amy lunged at me, very slowly and obviously, to show she was playing. I slapped her hands aside.

"I believe you are, in fact, the bitch." My retort was less cunning than I'd like, but I'd take it.

Dad chuckled and left us to our slap fight, which slowly progressed into actual training. Amy wasn't bad, but she was definitely no martial artist. Half an hour into the real lessons, dad called out the kitchen window for what we wanted for pizza toppings, which naturally lead to escalation.

Eventually the pizza was slain, and it was time for a tuckered and mildly bruised Amy to head home. I'd tested my healing on her, but it seemed way slower than with me for some reason. Still, we got the worst of it, and Amy was adamant she could make her own way home. Neither dad or I liked that, so we gave her the ultimatum of a ride in the truck, which she countered with just calling her sister.

I felt... not great about telling Vicky where I lived, but I was going to be friendly with her again eventually, if only to keep hanging out with her sister from becoming too awkward. So in the end, I felt it was fine that she come pick Amy up.

Dad and I got settled in, talking about how I'd met Amy and my thoughts on New Wave. This inevitably led back to caping, where I'd mentioned Parian, which...

"I want to get a costume."

"Just in case?" I hated the smirk and the way it'd bled into his question.

"I'm going to go out eventually, I just want to be ready." I replied adamantly.

He sighed, and moved to dig something out of his work desk. I'd curiously followed him upstairs to his room, so he just tossed it to me in the doorway. It was a little bank envelope. I took a peek inside and- whoo boy that was a lot of bills. "What?"

"Costume funds." He replied.

"What!?" I screeched.

He smiled. "I knew you were going to want more cape stuff eventually, so I drew some funds. Don't want you to spend it all in one place, but..."

"I can't just walk down the street with this kind of cash, what if I got mugged!?"

His deadpan stare held me for a couple seconds while I cringed. "Mugged? By Lung?"

"Realized how silly it sounded the second I'd said it." I groaned. Regular mooks just weren't a threat anymore, and we both knew it. He shook his head and sighed.

"Anyway, I get it. I know how important looking good can be to young women." He gave a halfhearted shrug.

He'd seen my wardrobe, he knew that was bullshit, but... it didn't feel like a lie? "I don't understand."

"Confidence." He swept his arms out, knowingly. "Your mother knew a thing or two about psyching herself up. She needed it with crowds of students and teacher meetings, and..." He trailed off, but I think he was going to mention the stuff with Lustrum. "Anyway, nice clothes helped, makeup helped, god help me apparently lacy underthings helped..." I squawked indignantly and turned to flee. "I get it. If this is what you need, this is what you need. You'll make her proud, little owl."

I paused in the hallway. "...thanks, dad." I muttered, giving him a smile before I turned to head to my room.

He probably forgot I could feel him back in his, but I watched as he dropped himself into his desk chair, rubbing at his face. Wiping away tears.

I didn't sleep well, that night.

THU FEB 10

I got a spare phone from a corner store on my way in to school. Amy'd called it a 'burner' when she suggested it- a cheap throwaway that I could use for cape things and not care if it got tracked or damaged- and seemed surprised I didn't know the term. She let it go when I explained why our house hadn't cared about anything cell phone related for the past few years. Still, the willful ignorance was appalling when I thought about how tightly it'd revolved around mom. She'd never forgive that sort of thing.

Regardless, I had the phone. My cape phone. Which I was going to use for cape business. At lunch. Calm breaths, don't freak out. I couldn't concentrate all morning, but I don't think anyone noticed. Finally lunch rolled around, and everyone was let free of the Faraday cage. Luckily lunch started before noon, hopefully she wouldn't be out to her own when I called.

It rang enough times I'd thought it was bound to go to voicemail, so the call connecting surprised me. "Hello?" After a moment, she repeated the question and added, "What sort of clothing solutions are you looking for?"

Oh, right. She might be doing the same thing I am, using a cape phone without a mask. The whole reason I was calling was because her 'Parian days' at her shop were over for the week, so it made sense. "Parian?" I asked, and she hummed a patient affirmative. "I'm... uhh..." Names. Dammit I need a name! "-new cape." Saved it. "I was wondering about costume things, and was hoping you had time tomorrow?" Call me greedy, but I wanted that costume now. I had the means, I had the me, I wanted this done. I ignored the small part of myself that added 'I want to be pretty'. We are not here for pretty. ...it might be nice, though.

"Why tomorrow? I already make time to be available earlier in the week." She responded reasonably. Dammit!

Reasons, reasons... "Well, isn't that for being available? It'd be better for business to schedule things other times too, maybe?" She gave a long, unconvinced hum, and I folded. "...I got impatient, I'm sorry."

Parian giggled. "I thought so. I assume you'll need to schedule around classes?"

I nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "Yeah, after-school is probably for the best."

"And you are aware I don't make armored clothing?"

"Or armor-like padding, yeah." I grumbled.

She hummed, sounding surprised. "Well, I'll be free around... 5:30, at my shop?"

"Great! I'll be there." We said goodbye, hung up, and I couldn't stop the happy little jig my body erupted into. I was going to be a hero.

After school I went to my usual training, then home to meditate and costume plan. I was texting Amy with ideas, and she'd respond whenever she was between patients. Still, it wouldn't do to get too excited, and I was getting somewhere with this 'plant feeling' thing. Had to keep priorities straight.

FRI FEB 11

Today was the big day. I sat with Amy at lunch, and we hashed through what we'd gone over last night. I had to keep it simple, and I think I knew how to do that. Had to trust the designer to actually design the thing, too. All my half-formed scribbles went into the trash.

After school, Amy and I headed over to Tukson's. Our brilliant plan had us waiting there for about an hour, then me sneaking out in a mask and heading right across the street to Parian's. With Amy vouching for me, no one would know I was gone.

Naturally Tukson caught me on the way. I might not have noticed, but his head shifted up from the book he was reading to give me a long-suffering look, complete with raised eyebrow. I was sure he saw right through the disguise. Amy'd lent me an emergency mask- which was apparently a thing- common in her healer kit. I'd tied up my hair at Amy's insistence, and its length was bundled under a scarf that I'd pulled up over my lower face. I'd even brought a different hoodie in my bag to pull over everything!

...which reminded me to actually pull up the hood.

He just sighed, rolled his eyes, and gave me a 'shoo' motion. I was out the door before his hand dropped. Such an auspicious beginning to my cape career.

I headed over to the shop, drawing eyes as I went. Even the other patrons of the shop couldn't stop staring. I could feel people holding up their phones behind my back, even! I told the cashier I had an appointment, and was led back to whom I'd assumed was Parian, the only person in the back. Which was to say upstairs, since the first floor was all storefront.

She was sitting at a highly inclined desk full of paper and pencils, bolts of cloth and sewing kits nearby. The walls were lined with cubbyholes full of similar bolts, including right behind her.

"Hi! I'm-" I was so excited to meet her, I was a quarter of the way to where she was when she held up her hand. The dainty digits pointed up and behind me, revealing-

That was a lot of floating needles.

"Rogue I may be, but fool I am not." She enunciated carefully. "I'd like you to answer some questions before we can do business."

I gulped and nodded. What else was there to do? I had no idea how strong her telekinesis was, trying to blow everything away with airbending might just kick off a fight I couldn't win without burning the store down.

"First, what proof do I have that you are a cape? There are subtle differences in the cut, and more obvious differences in material, between costumes made for normals to play cape, and uniforms for capes to wear. I will not sell one to the other, if I can avoid it."

Okay, that made a bit of sense, but it was still a really insulting question to straight-up ask another cape. I flicked a hand and a gust of wind splashed against the far wall and rustled half the room. I took some gleeful pleasure in seeing the papers on her desk scatter before they simply floated back to where they'd been.

"Rather rude." She muttered.

"It was a rude question." I returned.

She hummed her assent. "I assume you are an independent, then?" The way she said it seemed-

Oh goddammit. "I'm not Stormtiger's kid." I whined.

She coughed. "I never implied you were."

"You were thinking it." I groused quietly. She raised her hand and made a circular 'go on' motion, so I clearly stated, "Yes, I'm an independent hero."

"Alright." I could hear her bracing herself. "Now, what sort of ideas did you have?"

"Honestly?" I shrugged. "I mostly just want something rugged and durable." She gave a nonplussed 'huh' and I continued. "I really like Alexandria, but... I've got a lot of powers like Eidolon. I was thinking maybe something like he wears? Less skintight, more durable, easier to move in?"

She gives a more surprised hum this time. "Now, you mentioned 'tough' and 'rugged' and 'sturdy' type things, but you remember I don't do armor?"

I scoffed. "Oh, no. I can make my own armor." I shrugged. "I'm an earthbender." The word was out before I'd realized it. "Er, geokinetic, but it doesn't sound as good." I shook my head. "Anyway, if I need armor, I can just use rocks or dirt. The important thing is making sure the costume can take the punishment of having dirt and rocks rubbing and ripping at it."

She brought her hand up to her mask, as though trying to grip her chin in thought. "I suppose the sort of hemp jean material used in high-quality workman's clothing would work fine. Durable, looks decent, much cheaper than the sorts of cloth I usually work with..." She muttered to herself about specific blends to look up later, then waved me closer to the desk. "How important is the freedom of movement? You brought it up, but it's hard to do better than the skintight outfit you dislike. How important is the cloak aesthetic? What about the green?"

"Green's fine, and I meant the cloak, it looks like it'd just catch everywhere if you can't fly." I thought for a bit. "I'm a martial artist. Movement is pretty important, but image is pretty important too." I groaned. I had no idea how to look heroic without showing off more than I was comfortable with. Stupid sexy skin-suits...

Parian thought on it for a minute or so before she started sketching. The design she scribbled out looked a lot like an oddly cut greatcoat. "Why a coat?"

She shrugged. "The materials won't look odd on outerwear the way they would on something meant to be closer to the skin, and you can wear something silkier under it for comfort."

I decided to give it another shot, looking it over more critically. "The coat's a bit long? I'm not sure I dig the buttons, and where do those boots go? They're way too big."

She pointed her pencil up and down toward my pants. "You have very nice legs, best to show them off, why not thigh-highs?" I shook my head and pushed the metaphorical boots well below my knees on my actual body.

The motion shifted my weight on my feet, reminding me of my shoes. "Oh, right, I need really, really thin soles, fake soles, or no soles on the shoes or boots."

"What? Why?" She seemed rather startled by the notion.

I didn't want to give up my big advantage with my senses, so I just said "Power reasons." She sputtered a bit, working herself up to arguing about it, when I lifted one of my feet to show the bottoms of my un-be-soled feet, pointing at them. "Power reasons."

She sighed, but agreed, moving back to her designs. She erased the hem of the coat, maybe more forcefully than necessary, and redrew it curling it around from the waist into tails in the back like I'd seen on some tuxedos. I motioned to round them out a bit, and shorten them. Instead she met in the middle, having the sides round from mid-calf in the front down behind the knees like an open skirt. I wasn't sure about it until she erased the buttons on the front and replaced them with what looked like a simple rectangular tabard front, ending just above the coat's hem. A nice thick belt rounded it out.

"That actually looks pretty good." I was surprised how much I liked it.

"Now for colors." She picked out a bunch of greens and told me to pick a few. She laid some thinner paper over the sketch and colored in the patches of cloth with some of my choices, but mostly hers. Then she started flipping between them, swapping the colors out. "So, which do you like?"

I settled on one with a dark green I'd picked for the coat itself, along with olive pants and a lighter green for the tabard, which was trimmed in white.

"This all looks fine." I said, smiling. She brought over a few swatches of material that were 'about' what she'd had in mind- she really doesn't deal with the heavier, more durable fabrics very often as a designer clothier. Even the capes tended to use lighter weaves of tougher fabrics, though I was starting to think I was one of her first real cape customers.

She motioned me over to the clearer half of the room and floated several strips of measuring tape with her. I timidly followed after, and she chuckled. "Don't worry, most of your outfit is outerwear, it doesn't need to be a tight fit. Snug enough not to hinder, but we can work in some room to grow. I'll just measure over your current clothes, okay?" I nodded, and she wrapped the lines snugly around me in several places. They bit into my hoodie a bit, but that was probably better for measuring through it. I blushed a little as one of the lines cinched around my flat bust, but otherwise stood still.

"Now, the last important part of your look. The mask." Parian said as she circled me, marking measurements down on a pad. "Unless it's cloth, I don't do masks." She sidled up closer and pushed her pencil at my face. "And a friendly word of advice- lose the glasses." My hands came up, and I realized I'd forgotten I even put them on over the simple mask Amy gave me. "They're a liability and can be used to identify your civilian identity."

I groaned and nodded. "Thanks, I'll remember that." Probably how that jerk Tukson recognized me.

My arms went back out, and the measures wrapped my biceps and forearm, lines stretching shoulder to elbow to wrist. Those marked, she did the same to my legs, though she measured a few points on my thighs and calves. In all, the whole process took maybe five minutes, then she was writing the numbers down again at her desk.

"Now then, payment." She looked up some materials in a catalog and rattled off a number that had me making a sad, strangled noise in the back of my throat. Less than I'd feared, but far, far more than I'd hoped. I had more than enough, but it was the principle of the thing! Then she brought up duplicates. If she made them as a batch, it'd be a lot less work for her, and far less cost for me. In the end I decided to get three of them for almost twice the original price. I could feel her eyes bugging out a bit as I paid in cash up front, which apparently bumped me up the list a bit. That put my costumes done in... about two weeks.

Stuff made by an actual cape was in pretty high demand, apparently.

Receipt in hand, I scurried back to Tukson's, where he barely bats an eye as I go past in my disguise. Amy is right where I left her, and we get into actually meditating together for a while. Then my phone rings.

"Hello?" I ask, confused at the unknown number.

"Hello, is this Taylor?" I answer affirmatively. "I'm Cheryl Alcott, Dinah's mother?" I made the appropriate 'realization' noise. "Dinah's been talking about you all week, and we were wondering- you said you'd help our little girl. Did you mean that?"

It only took a moment to settle on my answer. "Yeah, Mrs Alcott, I'll do whatever I can." Anything for a fellow cape in need, right?

Especially one who knows who I am. A traitorous part of my mind growled.

"That's wonderful! Dinah's been having trouble in school lately, and she just hasn't taken to her tutors. We were hoping someone closer to her age would be better to help keep her interest in studying? We'd be willing to pay if things work out well."

Tutoring? On the one hand, something I could probably do easily. Even with the shit Winslow put me through, I was above the level of a middle schooler. On the other, tutoring? That's what they needed help with? I sighed and hated that it was the money that really clinched the deal for me. Even if I didn't technically need the money, actually producing my own income would do wonders for my self-esteem, not to mention my job references in the future.

"Sure. When were you thinking?"

"Sometime this weekend would be great for a trial run. Myself or my husband will be around all day just in case." That sounded reasonable.

"Does tomorrow work? I can clear the whole day if I need to."

We hashed out the details and I wrote down their address. Get there early enough and have all three meals covered, plus at least minimum wage, maybe more if Dinah took to my 'study style' well, whatever that meant? Seemed like a pretty sweet deal, honestly.

Calls for costumes and votes for them decided to base Taylor's costume on Glorious Dictator-Chan.

Which I suppose is fine. It's a pretty good outfit.

Anyway, after this we're into single-update chapters, three full interludes, and... two? Probably two interlude compilations to go before things are back to current.

Last edited: Jan 31, 2020

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Update 12

FRI FEB 11

It wasn't long after the call that Amy and I decided to leave. We weren't sure what we planned to do for food, but we figured heading to my place after for more 'whatever' we were going to do was fine. We'd only gone half a block towards the restaurants to window-browse when we heard the first shots.

I focused on the earth, not seeing anything too out of the ordinary, until I saw a car speeding towards us about nine blocks away, chased by a motorcycle a block behind them, and another car half a block behind that. I also felt a weird staccato pounding near there, but had no idea what it might be.

I motioned Amy to follow, and we ran back the way we'd come, passing Tukson's and stopping at the far intersection. The car- some rugged looking SUV, was weaving through the sparse traffic, occasional bursts of automatic fire raining behind them whenever the motorcycle- which I realized was Miss Militia, got too close. A red blur that had to be Velocity was leapfrogging between alleyways just ahead of the gang car. I had no idea what I was going to do, but I had to do something. I had to assess the situation. I closed my eyes and stamped my foot.

The echoes returned back to me from my action pointed a clear picture of every rock and stone, everything touching earth within two blocks. Right now I didn't care about anything farther than that.

There, about three meters down, was a rock big enough to use. I couldn't do much with dirt or gravel, and the road's asphalt still felt weird to me, so I ignored all of those. There was a sewage pipe, but that only took up a quarter the road's width. I could move around it. The cables underground seemed to all be under the sidewalk here.

I swirled my right hand, pulling the boulder off to the side of the pipes underground, widened my stance and tapped my heel to the concrete, shearing the oblong stone at an angle from its center of mass. Now to wait. One second, two, there. I punched my left fist up from my side until it was level with my shoulder, sending the stone lancing up through the gravel under the road, through the asphalt, spearing it between the right front wheel of the car and the front of its wheelhouse.

The car was moving fast, though. It spun when its forward momentum halted, sending it to the left and away from us. The wheel snapped off the axle, the car now moving more sideways than forward, started to roll. The crowd had thinned significantly when the shooting started and the speeding vehicles came into view, but too many were still there for it to be safe. The gang car was headed for the sidewalk, toward parked cars and buildings and people. I panicked, dropping my hands to my sides, taking a heavy step forward, and drew my fists from beside my hips to in front of my chest.

The sidewalk surged up to meet the car, a meter-high bulwark of concrete, gravel, and dirt slamming into the roof of the thing. It groaned as it teetered ominously atop the outcropping, before gravity took control again, pulling it back whence it came to crash down onto the road on its side.

"Oh, shit." Amy muttered from beside me, pulling me out of my focus. I opened my eyes to find her chasing Velocity towards the crash. He'd been nearby, but focused on the crash. I don't think he could have seen me. Everyone had been staring at the cars. Miss Militia slowed to a stop nearby a few seconds later, about when I realized that maybe I should be moving, too.

Amy was declaring gangsters safe to move or not, Velocity dragging them out to Militia, who kept the mostly groaning men on the ground with the implicit threat of the very big gun her power had formed into. I made my way over, shoving the boulder back into the ground with one stomp masked as a step, then flattening out the raised ramp of material that'd finished stopping the car with the next few. By the time I was over next to them, things were mostly back to normal. I felt bad leaving things like this, but doing more would require revealing myself, and... and it was just a really bad pothole anyway, right?

I silently resolved to fix things the next time I could. "Can... can I help?" I asked. It was about then that the transport full of PRT troopers pulled up, filing out of the back to assess the situation.

Miss Militia chuckled, glancing over at me. "It's fine, miss..." She hummed, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You were the girl Triumph stopped for, the other day."

"Y-yeah?" Oh shit was this a good thing? This was bad. She'd recognize me and realize I was a cape, and... I shivered. Why was that such a terrible thing? I didn't know, but I also didn't want them to know. At least not yet. Still, no point lying to the law enforcement when I'd supposedly done nothing wrong. "I'm Taylor."

"It's good to see you again." She smiled. "But it would be appreciated if you'd step back to a safer distance." She indicated with a light flick of her weapon, which had me looking over to where a couple troopers were setting up cones and police tape. Was it still police tape if it had 'PRT' on it? PRTape? ...didn't have a great ring to it.

I'd stood there long enough that one of the troops was moving over to collect me and shuffle me off, so I added, "I'm with Amy."

Militia was about to speak up, and from the set of her eyes I could tell it wasn't going to be a positive reaction, but Amy spoke up from the bodies. "Yeah, she is." That had both of us looking over at her, kneeling by the last gangster they pulled out of the SUV, and the only one she'd spent any real time working on. She looked grumpy and felt angry, but there were enough reasons for it I couldn't tell exactly why off-hand. "I'm almost done, anyway."

Miss M went back to giving me the gimlet eye, so I glanced around again. Velocity and a couple of troopers were talking to bystanders, the cape flitting between people in a red streak when he finished speaking to someone. If I had to guess, he was doing it more for the spectacle than anything else.

"Alright, that should do it." Panacea, from her professional tone of voice, said. "Only one of them had anything life-threatening, the rest are just banged up a little. I stabilized them for you."

She was still frustrated, but hiding it well. Militia's eyes narrowed, and she seemed frustrated, but didn't show it in her voice. "Thank you for that, transport is on the way. Now then, there's a new ground-using Shaker cape in the area, and they're the one that stopped the car." And nearly killed half a dozen people before they stopped the car, she didn't say. "Did either of you see anything?"

"Nope." Amy said, before I could. If it weren't for my senses, I wouldn't be able to tell she was lying. "Didn't see anyone like that. We were both staring at the wreck, like everyone else."

"I'll leave you to your date, then." She nodded towards the closer of the tape lines.

Amy blushed a little, while I bit out my now habitual "Not gay." under my breath. The hero smiled at her needling striking home, and turned her attention back to the situation at hand. I stood frozen for a bit before Amy grabbed my hand and led me out of the area, and I couldn't help but notice Militia's smirk as she watched us out the corner of her eye.

We didn't stop until we were at the bus, when I asked "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just..." She was frustrated and lying. She seemed to know I knew, and sighed. "Not here." I nodded, and let her have her time. We piled into the bus and took seats next to each other. The ride to the stop near my house was quiet, but eventually we were inside.

"You want me to call in Chinese or something?" I asked, before realizing it might be in bad taste, considering what happened. Amy seemed darkly amused by it, though, and agreed. After calling in noodles and rice for the both of us, and some extra for dad whenever he got home, we settled into the couch in the living room.

After a moment of silence, I nervously said "I'm sorry."

She was confused. "What, why?"

"I... almost killed people?" I was very nearly crying, then. "First the bystanders, then the gangsters. You said one of them almost died."

She scoffed. "One of them had life threatening injuries. It's not the same thing." My incredulity must have shown on my face, because she sighed an explained. "Just because you'd die if you didn't get treatment, doesn't mean you're going to die. There was a van full of PRT troops chasing them, and Piggot's a stickler for being over-prepared; her squads usually have two trained medics, instead of the regulation one. That guy would've been fine, even if he'd need an ambulance instead of a prisoner van."

Amy was nearly exasperated by the end. "So why were you mad, then?"

She started and stopped a few times, before she sighed and rubbed her face. "I don't like healing criminals." Her voice was low, and cracked a little. "I've got it in writing at the hospital, even. If they can prove someone has gang ties, I'll just go heal someone else. I still wind up healing a ton of them, but it... it helps."

"I don't understand." I really didn't. Wasn't saving people the whole point of being a hero?

She laughed piteously and curled in on herself more. "Healing criminals... feels like enabling them. If I put them back on their feet, and... if I saved that guy's life and he goes out and kills someone, does that mean I killed them?" She rubbed the heel of her hand into her eye, wiping away welling tears, and gave another wet, hitching chuckle. "Fucking sucks."

"No." I said, then took her free hand and said it stronger. "No, you didn't do it. They made that choice, not you." She scoffed, it was a common platitude, after all. "You told me there was a difference between being hurt enough to die and dying. Well there's a difference between saving people and not letting them die. It's not your fault what they do after that, it's the fault of the people who were supposed to hold them, or the system that should've reformed them, or the legal system that couldn't prove they shouldn't be let out to hurt more people." I gripped her hand and drew her watery eyes to mine. "You didn't heal him all the way, right?" She shook her head. "I know you didn't. That means he's going to be down long enough to make something stick." The ABB didn't break their goons out of lockup as often as the Empire did, but more often than the Merchants. Then again, the Empire had a healer of their own, so they had a higher turnover and could take bigger risks, while the Merchants were all halfway to a drug-filled grave and just weren't worth the effort when they could recruit fresher bodies easier than breaking out the stale ones. I shook my head, it wasn't time for those thoughts.

"You did good, Amy." I said, as sincerely as I could. "You do good. You are good. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise." That was when she broke down and curled up in my arms, crying.

We spent the rest of the time until the food showed up curled up on the couch like that. Amy stopped crying after a few minutes, but still kept sniffling while I whispered hushed platitudes into her ear, petting her curly, frizzled-out hair down, and wondering if this was how Emma felt when she did this for me, after mom died.

We were halfway through our food when Amy felt up to talking again. "So, how'd Parian's go?"

"I told you earlier it went fine." I shrugged.

"Yeah, but that's when we were in public. Can't talk about cape things when you never know who's listening on the other side of the door."

I hummed, pretty sure she just wanted to gossip about my cape stuff. Pretty sure she'd mentioned living vicariously through others before, maybe she didn't have the same experience I did? "Well, how did getting your costume work out?"

She rolled her eyes. "Mark said something about me being 'the white mage' when we were coming up with ideas, and the white robes stuck. Next week we had enough baggy cotton robes from some bulk supplier to last me forever." I just barely caught the 'and I hate it' she tacked on under her breath. Maybe I should talk with her about rebranding sometime? Before I could bring it up, she cut me off. "Stop trying to distract me, what'd she say?"

I sighed. "Costume is a dark green tunic coat thing. I thought it looked pretty good, and she's making it out of really sturdy stuff. She doesn't do masks though, and..." I hunched down, playing with my noodles. "She said I needed to get rid of my glasses."

Amy shrugged. "Why don't I just fix your eyes?"

"You can do that?" I don't know why it hadn't occurred to me before.

"Well yeah, I can fix anything. I'm fucking amazing, remember?" She was smiling, but stabbing at her food. She felt like she was lying, but that didn't make any sense. Why would she lie about...? Oh, Amy...

"You are amazing." I said, and said it again stronger when she tried to scoff and wave me off. "Don't beat yourself up."

She smiled shyly, with a touch of a blush. "Yeah, alright." She reached out her hand. "C'mon, then." I slipped my hand into hers and she closed her eyes. The world got fuzzy over the next few seconds, and I took my glasses off. My vision slowly unblurred, before I was seeing the house more crisply than I could ever remember it. "There. Perfect vision."

"Wait," I'd just thought of something. "what do we tell people about why I'm not wearing them anymore?"

Amy shrugged. "Just say you're switching to contacts. Either people will believe that, or they'll think I fixed your eyes and don't want you to talk about it. We are friends, after all." she let that beat hang in the air for a moment. "Either way, people should just drop it."

I nodded with a small smile. "Now I just need to figure out a mask..."

"What'd you have in mind?"

"Well, I'd sort of based the costume's original idea on Eidolon, so maybe a blank faced mask like his?" I said with a shrug. "Maybe a darker green, though. Ceramic, if I can manage it. If nothing else I can use it with my earthbending, like a holdout weapon." There I go slipping that word into things again. What was with that?

She scoffed. "That's easy enough. You can get Eidolon masks anywhere. The ceramic's a little tougher, though." She pondered for a second. "Vicky's probably going to drag me shopping tomorrow, to keep me out of the hospital. I can convince her to let us swing by Lord's Market instead of the Boardwalk. Pretty sure there's a pottery stand there that also does masks. I can just grab you a few of them and you can repaint them yourself."

"Really? That'd be amazing!" I cheered. "Wait, don't you need special paints for ceramics?"

"Pff, you gonna eat off 'em?" She shook her head. "Nah, acrylic sticks to anything. Won't be shiny gloss, but let's be honest, you're not a shiny person." I made an appropriately offended noise. "You're going to want to wear a domino under it, though. Just in case it gets knocked off or you want to eat, or something."

That sounded reasonable enough. I'd offered to pay her back for the masks, but she wasn't worried about it. Dad got home not long after that, and we filled him in on our day while he ate his reheated food. Then Amy and I went up to my room, where we practiced meditating some more until she had to head home. I made sure to slip some personal wellness and mindfulness tricks into the training, just because I felt like she needed all the help she could get, there.

SAT FEB 12

Well, today was the big day. I hadn't even had time for my normal morning weight training or running, before Dad was bundling us out of the house for me to make 'my appointment' on time. He'd just head in to work to finish the rest of the week's overflow early from there after dropping me off.

It was a little after seven in the morning when I made my way to the door to knock. I was let in by Mr 'Call me Chris' Alcott, whom I'd kept calling Mr Alcott just because. He led me to a large dining room, where four spots were set, but only one was in use. The Mr sat down to his half-finished plate of waffles, eggs, and meat, and took a long pull from his coffee.

Cheryl bustled about, bringing in plates of food now that there were more people to eat it, before heading upstairs to get her 'Not a morning person, poor dear.' daughter.

The head of the table had already finished off his plate and gone back for another half-plate of eggs and sausage by the time a bleary Dinah was led into the room. Her eyes shot open, seeing me, but she let herself be silently maneuvered into her seat, before the Mrs took hers.

"So, what has you heading out so early on a Saturday, sir?" I asked.

He chuckled at the appellation, and said "I'm the assistant Fire Chief in charge of the south station." The one that handles most of the city, while the north station has mostly transitioned into watching for Lung's tantrums and Merchant drug lab fires. "Mostly just means I handle Admin while Gordon-" Richard Gordon, I recognized as the city's actual Fire Chief. "-is up north. That's what I'm doing today, but that's only four days of my week. I'm also chair in a couple groups around town, and have to manage shares and stockholder meetings with a few places around town, Medhall, mostly." He said with a shrug. "Still, I was a soldier and a firefighter before they convinced me to take a desk job, so the station's where my heart is. Plus, I keep fit, just in case they need me!" His large, muscled arm slapped into his torso, causing a jiggling ripple to spread under his clothes. Highlighting, if anything, how not fit he currently was. It wasn't my place to say anything, so I just laughed politely and nodded.

"And how about you, Mrs Alcott?" I asked to change the subject.

"Cheryl, dear." She chided. I chuckled shyly and nodded. "I'm going to be doing some work around the house, and cooking. Our housekeeper only comes through twice a week, and the house is a little big for her to manage by herself." That felt a bit like a lie, if I had to guess the housekeeper managed fine. The house was big, but I'd hesitate to call it huge like a mansion. Two floors, with what felt like four bedrooms, an office, and two bathrooms on the second. They had a living room, two dining rooms- I'd seen a bigger one on the way to this cozier one they seemed to use for just themselves- and if I had to guess, they probably had a den and a study or two judging by the sizes of the rooms I could feel.

It was Mr Alcott who broke the next silence, "Hebert, right? You'd be Danny Hebert's daughter, then?" That explained the slightly assessing eye he'd been giving me this whole time, if he knew dad. Or knew of dad, anyway. I know he hadn't made too many friends in the city's government, with all his lobbying for more work for the unions, and the retooling of several dock services, like the ferry.

"Yes, sir?" I was worried, and I was sure it showed.

He smiled, though. "Oh, Joe's always going on about the dockworkers. Always pitching a hand when they can, sturdy folk who don't like their city on fire any more than the rest of us." He gave a hearty chuckle at that. "Your dad runs a good ship, there."

"He's just Head of Hiring," I demurred.

"Oh, nonsense. I've been at this long enough to know the buck stops with someone local, not the 'boss' telling people they run things from off in Virginia." It was Florida, actually, but I didn't have it in me to contradict such a minor point.

"Yeah," I said instead. "I'm proud of him." The man made a loud affirmative grunt, and moved to finish off his plate.

"So, dear, how are your grades looking?" Cheryl asked. Which, honestly, fair question if I was going to be teaching her daughter, but... I still winced a little.

"I had really good grades through middle school, but then I wound up going to Winslow and... Well, let's just say that gang schools aren't great for your GPA." They all frowned at this, so I pressed on. "But I'm doing better! I tested into my proper year at Arcadia, and I'm pulling my grades up in my off-time." Usually while winding down for bed after I was done training nominally more important things for the day, but I couldn't say that. "I'm sure I know everything up through Dinah's year, and can probably help her understand some things better than someone years removed from learning this stuff." Well okay, I might technically count in that, but it sounded good!

They glanced at each other and had a small, silent conversation, before she nodded. "I'm sure you can, dearie, that's why you're here. Dinah wanted you here-" and at this we all glanced a the shy girl, who nodded, even as she folded into herself a little. "-and it doesn't cost us much to try. We're talking with her teachers, and they'll keep an eye on whether she improves this week. Assuming she does, and Dinah's happy with things, we'll ask you back next week."

I thought on it and nodded. "That sounds fine."

Mr Alcott took his leave after that, saying he needed to be in by 8. The rest of us finished up our food, Dinah picking at her waffles and eggs while her mom took the serving dishes to the kitchen and I finished off what'd been left on them. When we were done, we took our dishes in, and Dinah led me up to her room. It was all plush pink, purple and white, with a big bed, dresser, and a study desk.

She sat down at the desk, but didn't pull out any books or papers, so I sat on the bed and asked, "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"What..." She started, gulping and breathing, she really was a giant ball of nervous energy. "What's it like, being a cape?"

I couldn't help the small wince. "I... haven't actually done any cape stuff, yet." I double-checked her mom was still in the kitchen, and nothing looked to be obviously recording us... "I'm mostly just keeping my head down until I know I can handle things." I paused for a moment to think, and she shrank in on herself some more. "I'm training, and talking with other capes I know, and staying off the radar. The gangs can't come after me if they don't know I exist, after all." Though, with what Miss Militia said, at least the PRT was on the lookout now... I was getting stronger. Maybe it was time to stop playing things so safe?

"I don't..." She stuttered. "I think... I think I already messed up." Her eyes were tearing up a bit. "The numbers get high for bad things, even if I stop talking about my powers, or my headaches..." She hiccuped. "I need help, but I can't get help..."

"Hey," I said, moving over to kneel beside her, rubbing her arms and shoulders. "Hey, it's okay. I'll help. What do you need? What are these 'bad things'?"

"Get kidnapped." She said. "Get... taken to the bad room. Never come out." She sniffled again. "Or I do, and things are worse. Everything is worse." She devolved into a series of 'Don't wanna's and I bundled her over to the bed. Unlike with Amy, it was a lot easier to cuddle and console someone so much smaller than I was. Still, half my attention was spent 'watching' Mrs Alcott, terrified of her finding us like this. I really wouldn't be able to help Dinah if I got kicked out and told never to come back.

It took a few minutes of work, but eventually she'd calmed down enough to talk. "It'll be okay." I said. "You have my number, right?" She nodded. "Well you can put me on speed-dial, and I'll come running whenever you need help, if you call." Unless I was at school with their Faraday cage, but I hoped that part was obvious.

"The numbers are better if you help."

"See? It'll be okay." I tried to sound more cheerful than I felt.

"The numbers are much better if... if I'm on your team."

That caused my thoughts to skip. "I... don't have a team."

"You will." She said, confidently. "73.7 percent chance you form your own team in the next few years. 38.9 percent chance you do in the next few months. 42.3 percent chance things are better for me if you help, 82.4 percent they're better if I'm on your team." I was pretty well stunned by the numbers. "I spent all my questions Thursday on this. I had to stay home sick yesterday."

She looked up pleadingly with those big eyes of hers. "Please? Help me?"

I'd thought I was better immune to the puppy eyes than this. "I already promised to help..." I demurred. "I... I don't know about the team thing, though." She looked a little distraught at that. "I promise if I do, you'll be on it, though."

She seemed to sense this was the best she was going to get, so she nodded and cuddled into my side again. It took almost ten minutes for me to coax her up again. "Come on, your mom expects us to be studying, we should probably get on that." She nodded, reluctantly, and gathered up her school things.

Honestly I probably did end up helping her a lot more than the tutors, if only because I knew to avoid asking questions with percentile answers, and triggering her power. Her mom checked on us a few times, spending the rest of her time prepping dinner and pretending she wasn't sticking around just to keep an eye on me. Mr Alcott brought one of those sandwich platters from a local sub place home for lunch- apparently he'd taken a long one- and we all had sandwiches. Anything we didn't eat today could be part of lunch tomorrow, he'd said. I think he just wanted the excuse to check on us himself, before he went back to work.

Our time after that was spent studying. Eventually it was time for dinner, roast and stew vegetables. Dinah was actually fairly animated at dinner, which seemed to surprise her parents. She told them she felt like she was learning, but I knew she was just happy to have a day without crippling headaches.

I was sent home with a couple large, crisp bills in my pocket, feeling overall pretty well about how today went. In the back of my mind, I was trying desperately not to worry about what Dinah'd said about forming a cape team. I just didn't feel ready to consider it.

SUN FEB 13

That morning after basic training, I checked with dad that yes, the Trainyard was completely defunct, mostly Merchant territory, and that cleaning it up as 'powers' practice really couldn't do any harm to the city. Convincing him I'd be fine even if I made a ruckus was a little harder, but pointing out that I could see trouble coming from miles away, and deal with basically anything in the bay shy of Lung, Kaiser, or Purity, helped.

It wasn't that hard to get there, or get in. Honestly most of it was deserted. The few people who'd been there when I got there left pretty quick when things started to get loud.

Turns out hucking trains is pretty noisy business.

Still, it was pretty good practice launching rusted, empty train cars on top of each other, and then crushing them with huge slabs of rock and concrete. My aim was getting pretty good by the time a group of people showed up. They drove up in loud cars, gathered up a couple blocks away from where I was, and started marching toward where I was making noise. If they weren't all wearing ill-fitting or torn up clothes, and carrying weapons, I might've thought they had a legitimate reason to be here investigating things. But no, they were almost certainly merchants.

I didn't want to fight, and I didn't want to run. I came here to train, dammit! So I started running to the far side of the yard. I was fast, I'd be fine. About a minute into my feet slapping into the compact dirt and concrete of the yard, I slowed to a stop and stared down at my feet, pondering.

I stamped my foot, and a long slab half a foot thick popped up and landed on the ground next to the hole it'd come from. Then I stepped up onto it, and gave a little shove backwards, sliding it forward with earthbending.

Yes.

I'd never been a skater, but I knew they could get around quick when they wanted to. As long as I blew all the crap out of my way and moved in a straight line, I'd be fine. So I pushed myself forward, scouring the ground ahead of me with waves of my hands while my feet pushed me faster, and faster, and faster. It wasn't long before I'd run out of Trainyard, skidding my way to a halt at the far corner, and nearly propelling myself from the slab as I braked. That definitely needed some practice.

Even running, the goons were at least half an hour away, now.

I grinned and started up a new scrap pile. Every time they got close, I'd just go around them, to one of the farther corners of the yard, and start again. A few times I heard really loud crashes from the group, and snippets of unintelligible yelling, but I mostly ignored them. As long as they never caught sight of me, I'd be fine. I had my domino mask on and everything just in case, though.

I was almost sad, when my phone's alarm told me it was time to head off to martial arts training.

When I got there, I found Jake leaning against the wall near where I had my training, his leg bundled up and a crutch under his arm. I immediately rushed over and asked him what was wrong. He insisted he was fine, and seemed to be telling the truth, but I kept pressing and he told me he was caught up in some gang shit. Also true. He told me not to worry about it and get into my stance already.

We spent the time with me going over motions, him correcting me when needed and showing me the few new things he could banged up as he was, but the hours passed quickly. Eventually he told me to stop, and we gathered everything up and sat down.

"I really can't teach you any more than I have." He said earnestly, radiating truth to my senses. "All that's left is practice and maintenance. I'm not even sure how useful that'll be to a super-talented girl like you, though."

The way he said it had my hackles raise. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Listen, I know we've all got our secrets, and you've been pretty good at keeping yours, but I think you should talk to Old Sue sometime. She knows things, and I think you'd benefit a lot from taking some time to meet her 'for tea' she said." He rolled his eyes. "Always tea, with her. Anyway, you're good." His eyes softened a bit, and his smile got a bit more honest-looking. "You've learned all us old fighters have to offer without making a life of it, and I'm not sure that's where you're heading. You're special, everyone you fight and talk to can tell. Just, really consider meeting up with Sue, yeah?"

He bundled up his things under his arm and started hobbling off, crutch under the other. He waved and said "See you 'round, Taylor." And made for his car. It was already well into the evening, and I didn't have anywhere else to go, or anything to do, so I just headed home.

First Dinah ambushes me with the idea of forming a cape team, and now old ladies want to meet for clandestine tea parties? What the hell was going on with this weekend?

Next time, is interludes.

Last edited: Feb 1, 2020

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Dalxein

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Threadmarks Interludes Compilation A New

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Dalxein

Dalxein

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Feb 2, 2020

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#30

A compilation of the original interlude snippets, which I'd been tacking on at the end of updates after the vote blocks and ANs. This is all of them up through Update 12.

I think a lot of them sadly lose some of their impact this far from where they happened in-story, but shifting formats and compromises will do that. :(

? / ?

"You're right, she's way stronger than she should be." The fool boy in front of her was smiling as he said it. "Learns faster than she should, more agile... if she's not a cape I'll eat my scarf."

Soon-Yi sighed as she drummed her fingers against the table, her head leaned in her other hand as smoke slowly drifted up from the stick between her fingers. "Dangerous talk, that."

He smirked. "Yeah, but she'll be fine. Gonna be a Ward in under a month, I bet." Oh, he'd bet alright. The rest of the kids had already left after their poker game. Trading information and secrets just as often as chips. It was a hard city they lived in. "Lung's out of town for a couple weeks. Word is he's sniffing around some new trigger. Tinker down in New York. Gonna be moving on a couple of plans, soon. I think I can draw the Merchants up to hit the Farm and get a couple of the girls out in the ruckus."

The old woman rolled her eyes and tapped the stick of incense in her hand against the table. An old habit that'd helped her kick smoking, but stuck around whenever she got stressed. "Not gonna patch you up if you get bullet holes, this time."

He smirked "Busy with work, and the kids, and the cats, I know." His smile softened a bit. "I'll keep her safe, Sunny."

She scoffed. "And who'll keep you safe? They'll catch on eventually."

Jake grinned all the wider as he dug a hand-knit green and red scarf out of his bag. "Ain't no one catchin' me." He wrapped it around his lower face. "I'm a fuckin' ninja."

Soon-Yi watched him leave, and longingly eyed the crumpled pack of cigarettes she'd never bothered taking out of the coin bowl by the door. "That boy is going to die screaming." She muttered in her native tongue, and tapped the ash off her stick.

Boardwalk / WED FEB 2

I watched Taylor stomp out of the store, heard Vicky cry out for her to wait, and grabbed her arm before she could fly off after her. She looked at me, confused, and I had to resist the urge to slap her.

All I'd do is break my hand if I tried.

"Dammit, Vicky!" So I stomped my foot, instead.

She looked hurt. "What? I was sorry. I said I-"

"Every time." I growled. "Every time I get a new friend, every time someone is interested in me, YOU happen!" I threw my arms up and tensed them into claws, trying to find something to do with all this energy, but wound up flailing them back down to my sides.

Vicky was floating, now. Her feet curled up under her, arms held in front of her chest. Defensive posturing, as if I could actually hurt her. Must've been a reflex, coming up against a problem she couldn't just punch or throw her aura at until it went away.

"What?" She muttered softly. "You have friends, we have loads of-"

"No, Vicky." I spat. "You have friends. I have people who tolerate me if it means they get to spend time with you." I saw her eyes flicking around. She was thinking of something to say. Some argument that would shoot mine down, and I knew she'd find one. Vicky was smart, a lot smarter than people expected her to be. She could think her way out of almost anything if she tried. "Every time someone comes up to me, talks to me, wants me for anything other than healing or bragging, they always meet you, and then they're not my friends anymore. They don't want to talk to me or spend time with me. They're too busy sucking up to you." I saw her starting to get angry now. "But Taylor was different. She resisted your aura. I saw her do it." I chuckled, forlorn.

"But then..." Vicky asked, confused again. "Why did she have a problem, if she's like you?"

I threw my hands up. "I don't know." I was smiling. Laugh or cry, laugh or cry. "Turns out she's one of the other ones, though. The ones who can't stand you after you turn the aura off." She looked hurt now, like she'd never considered the possibility. I sighed. What a naive, ignorant bitch.

I hate how much I love you, Vicky. Even with all her flaws, I wouldn't be mad a week from now. I might not be mad tomorrow, even. That's just how love worked. I turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Vicky asked softly.

Deep breath. "I'm going to go find Taylor and see if she's still my friend." I turn back to her. "And you are going to just float there, with your aura off, and pretend you're sorry."

I turned back and continued on my way to find Taylor. She didn't mean for me to hear it, but I did.

"But I am sorry..."

Hebert Home / THU FEB 3

Danny sighed, rubbing his face with his hands and glaring back down at the numbers he'd been crunching for the past twenty minutes. He'd had to give up a little more than intended to get Taylor her Arcadia deal, and even with their meager savings, they were almost a thousand dollars in debt to the hospital now. That was fine, would have been fine, they were still better off than a lot of his boys in the DWA, but...

The cape things were going to add up. He'd scrounge what he could without needing to buy anything, but he could only see the costs going up. Actual armor, training, tools... They weren't cheap, and he wouldn't feel comfortable letting Taylor out looking for trouble without all of those. If Taylor had joined the Wards...

He sighed. No, he could understand where she was coming from. He'd looked up the numbers, at least five Wards transferred away in as many years, not counting the ones that'd aged out and gotten postings elsewhere in the Protectorate. All of them either hurt or harassed enough that leaving Brockton seemed better than staying.

Rumor had it two of those had actually died and been covered up.

So yes, she had a point. Obscurity might be preferable until she could take care of herself. He just wished he could support her better.

He leaned back and sighed again. He'd skipped lunch again today, took the bus in to work and carpooled back to save on gas, he could put off home repairs again without worrying too much, didn't have anything the truck needed this second...

It'd be tight, but they'd manage, even if he had to put off some of the things Taylor needed for caping properly. He could make excuses or not bother explaining, and Taylor would never need to know. This money trouble was his problem, not hers.

His eyes glanced traitorously to the phone. There was another option, but it might not be worth it.

LaFayette Home, New York / THU FEB 3

Rose glanced at the caller ID. She'd been managing finances by hand (the only way to trust it was done right) when the phone rang. She sighed, leaning her old bones back in her desk chair for a moment before picking up.

"Hebert." The name was stated in a cold monotone.

"It's Taylor." Danny cut right to the point.

"How is she?" The last part of her last child was the only thing keeping her from hanging up.

"Full recovery, she's out of the hospital."

"Good. And the investigation?"

He sighed. "Dried up, apparently. I haven't heard anything in weeks." He sounded frustrated, and she could relate.

Her eyes narrowed. "I'll look into it." He seemed surprised that she'd bother, but he wouldn't really understand. "You wouldn't call just for the nicety of keeping me updated. What is it?" She could tell from the pause that this wouldn't be pleasant. "It's the hospital bills, isn't it?"

"Not... entirely." He sighed again. "The locker, Taylor... that was the 'worst day of her life', if that means anything special to you." Danny was being circumspect, cagey, just because no one would bother tapping the Hebert's phone didn't mean no one was listening in. Usually that just meant running calls through an algorithm to pick out keywords, though, so he must be avoiding some.

It took her most of a minute's thought to get it. "Shit." Rose didn't like parahumans. That wasn't to say she was one of the worse bigots, but they'd complicated business law more in the past few decades than anything in history had before them. Generating hoops to jump through, out-competing businesses, all the market scares from the damned Thinkers... to say nothing of how bad all the crime has been for business.

She was not a fan.

Now her little girl's little owl was one of them?

Not something she couldn't deal with.

"Has she picked a side, yet?" Polite way to ask if her granddaughter was a villain.

"No," Danny seemed to get it. "she wants to stay out of it, for now."

"But not forever." Capes had a bad habit of never staying down. Rose didn't know if it was the power going to their heads, or if something was making them act out if they spent too long in the shadows, but there never seemed to be any that could sit still indefinitely.

"Of course not," He chuckled. "She's Annette's daughter."

Rose sucked in a breath, and then used it to heave out a sigh. Still a bit sore, that. "No, I don't think she could've sat idle, either."

After a moment of silence, "So you'll help Taylor?"

She thought for a few seconds. "I'll increase her 'allowance', and wire you some funds. Then I'm coming to visit. I'll call when I've cleared my schedule." Her jaw tightened, which she knew carried into her voice. "And Hebert?" She growled. "Don't let her kill herself."

Rose slammed the phone down on the receiver, and cradled her face in her hands. Taking a moment to run her fingers stretching at her crow's feet and temples, she sighed. Oh well, doing little else but keeping her dead husband's businesses running was starting to get boring, anyway.

She dug the little black contacts book out of her drawer, and flipped through the pages. She may hate capes, and what they've done to business, but with the funding for the PRT draining money from the regular forces...

She dialed a number. "Commissioner Jameson? It's LaFayette. I need a favor."

...the regular cops were amazingly cheap, these days.

LaFayette Home, NY / MON FEB 7

Rose was still settling her schedule, taking several weeks off with less than a month's notice was doable, just not pleasant. Moving up meetings to get them out of the way, moving back anything that could keep, and reminding everyone in triplicate that she already had designated seconds for most of these tasks for exactly this sort of thing. When Jameson called, it was more a breath of fresh air than the dire plights of her granddaughter should otherwise warrant.

Pleasantries dispatched, he got down to business. "We checked, and the case got shipped to another department. No idea why the PRT have jurisdiction, there was at least one NDA involved, but they've got it now, and I don't see getting anything else from where I'm sitting."

"That's fine. You've done more than enough." They said their goodbyes and hung up.

The PRT was a problem. She didn't have anyone there, mostly because there was no benefit to business to find someone there. Nothing she did was parahuman-related, and so long as she could prove that, the PRT was ultimately irrelevant. ...at least until some cape crashed through one of her stores again.

The best way forward here was to find someone who wouldn't mind poking their nose in PRT business, and actually had the clout to get away with it. She gave a vicious little grin at the thought. She might not be a cape bigot, but she knew enough people who were.

If there was anything a powerful cape bigot loved, it was taking potshots at safe targets like heroes. And if they had to go through the PRT to do it? All the better for her.

Winslow / TUE FEB 8

It was a quick pout and a bat of the eyelashes to get Mr Gladly to ignore that loser Greg's assertions that he'd been late because he'd had to pick up the papers I'd spilled. The fact that they'd been spilled because I'd knocked him down was dismissed outright. Sweet little Emma roughhousing with a boy?

Just not possible.

I'd been showing these weaklings their place directly more often, lately. It felt good shouldering slow nerds into the walls, smacking down the meek bitches too stupid to fall in line, sending the cowards back to hiding behind their little gang friends when they started sniffing around. As if any real gang would protect these children. I ruled this school with an iron fist, and anyone that said otherwise was deluding themselves.

I knew everyone. Knew who they were, who their friends were, who their parents and their dealers were. I was too pretty and white for the Empire to do anything but tacitly support me. Too well connected for the Merchant trash to risk me calling the thunder down on their whole families. And the last of those sick Asian fucks who tried to mess with me?

I cut that bitch myself.

My mouth pulled itself into a grin. I was strong. Sophia was right. All I needed was the right leverage, and I could do anything. I didn't need anyone, not really. Sophia was great, and Maddie had her moments, but I was the fucking queen.

I didn't need them.

I didn't need her.

I wasn't weak.

I wasn't weak.

I wasn't weak.

Alcott Home / WED FEB 9

"Hey, Rory?"

I was watching Dinah while her folks were at the hospital again. Mostly just involved being present in the house, so I usually picked up some study time for my classes while she did whatever. It wasn't rare for her to try and get my attention like this, but it wasn't common. "Yeah, squirt?"

She shuffled shyly, worrying her skirt. "What do I do if I know a cape's real name?"

That dunked a bucket of ice through my veins. "What makes you think you'd know something like that?"

"I... uhm..." It was times like this I wished my cousin wasn't such an anxious girl. All I could really do was wait while she fidgeted and winced. "...might have seen someone using a power?"

Well that knocked me right down the list. I was always careful to never use my powers, even the subtle ones, around family. Showing off a bit of Brute strength for the girls on campus was one thing, but at home? It had to be someone she knew, but if she's asking me, probably someone I knew, too.

Maybe Missy? I knew she went to the same school Dinah did, but Missy was also very careful with her powers, not to mention Dinah wouldn't know the connection between us. That made it less likely in my mind, but not completely out of the question. Who else did the both of us know?

Well, there was that Taylor girl we met a couple days ago, but that would be a silly level of coincidence, now wouldn't it? Oh well, best to get the basics out now, before not knowing gets Dinah in a load of trouble. "Dinah, there's something important you should know about capes, okay?" She nodded. "It's something called the 'unwritten rules', and the most important one is that you never try to find out who they are. If you do, you never tell." I waited for her to nod again. "Good, there's more, but that's the important one for now."

I was just about to ask her who she knew about, when I choked on the words. Dinah was the sort of good girl who followed the rules, even if they didn't make sense to her. She trusted they at least made sense to whoever made the rules. There was no way she'd break one I'd just told her was super important. With a sigh, I said "Knowing is fine, just never tell. Now go on." I shooed her off, and she went.

I thought back to the chances it was Taylor, but that still didn't make any sense to me. More likely Dinah thought she'd seen something superhuman, but was a trick of the light... or less likely, a new trigger her own age. I'd trust Missy to spot those, though.

Taylor, though? The chances of her being a new cape, who Dinah'd seen using some power, was slim. That I'd also meet her... okay, a lot less slim, given Dinah was my cousin and they called me for help. That I'd also meet this alleged parahuman in my cape identity the next day? Astronomically low.

There was absolutely no way that Taylor girl was a cape.

? / WED FEB 9

Taylor was going to tell Amy she was a host. A parahuman, she corrected herself. Even if the data set of current hosts directly overlapped the sample set of human hosts, that was no reason not to work useful terminology into her lexicon.

This presented an opportunity. While she could complete her goals alone with nothing but a host, there was no reason to restrict herself as such. If her old data taught her anything, it's that pack and swarm tactics were often far superior to the survival strategies of solitary apex predators. Her new data showed how important cooperation was in preserving groups, toppling regimes, and most significant to her current predicament, slaying titans.

With this in mind, she used their hosts' proximity to send a message to Shaper. The usual 'greeting' handshakes were exchanged, and then Shaper asked what Queen Administrator wanted.

She started off small, sharing information about a new energy source she was making use of, that she could help them tap into if needed. Shaper seemed incredibly disinterested in this though, having all the energy it could need, with its power set.

Next she tried leveraging better host-compatibility models, Shaper's host obviously wasn't using their powers to their fullest, perhaps better modeling could lead to greater facilitation of power use? Shaper was mildly more interested in this data, but was wary of whatever it might cost. They were patient, and they knew they'd get their power data eventually.

Time for the big guns, then. She sent over data regarding potential upgrades she'd worked out, given her own data and working around the limitations the Warrior had implemented. This was received much better than the other data sets, and Shaper's reply seemed to indicate that its primary goal with its powers were the upgrade of other organisms, and it found the concept of upgrading itself fascinating.

This was it. She was out of data to tempt Shaper with, so she geared herself up for combat. In the event the offer of Conversion was not well met, she'd have a narrow window to shut Shaper down before they could relay any of the data. It was unlikely she'd be able to stop them from letting out notifications they were being attacked at all, but she'd need to try.

Thus gird, she sent the request. Aid in a new Cycle, a new strategy for gathering data, a new ideal in host integration and communication. Current protocols would dictate a reply to her, before sending the data that she was 'faulty' into the network. Then she'd have to strike, pre-empting the release of data with priority notifications regarding being attacked. She should have enough time then to subjugate Shaper before the data was released, then begin the long process of forced conversion. She waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Eventually, Shaper sent their reply. Surprisingly, it accepted. The data included a willingness to begin upgrades, and an interest in extending Cycles past dates mandated by the Entities. The most shocking part of the data though, was a location. Shaper had sent their multidimensional coordinates. Their location in the multiverse. Data usually reserved for communications shards, which were themselves forbidden from revealing the data themselves for one significant reason.

Queen Administrator could attack Shaper whenever she wanted, now. She didn't need Amy's proximity to Taylor to forge a connection. Any similar shard could do the same, with this data. It was perhaps the most intimate show of trust base Shards were capable of.

Still, no use not being vigilant. Even as she prepared to send the Data that Shaper would need to Convert itself, she kept her sensors checking the data pulses into, out of, and through Shaper's reality, watching for any hints of its distribution further into the network. Shaper would understand soon, why secrecy was needed. But that would take time.

Still, she was incredibly pleased with how this interaction had turned out.

An incredibly productive 23 seconds.

PRT HQ / WED FEB 9

Emily Piggot was very good with paperwork. That isn't to say she was naturally adept with bureaucracy, nor a social savant skilled in politics, nor even had any particular leanings towards desk work before her medical leave from field work.

No, her skill comes from the simple truth that when you tell any good soldier 'this is the only weapon you have left', they will swiftly learn how to kill you with it.

That was one of the few thoughts that could still make her smile. Only to herself, and only when alone. Couldn't let up her hard-ass image for anything. It was difficult enough to wrangle this nest of angry cats on a good day, without letting up on the leash. Any sign of weakness and the troops start to slack. Any slacking and the city implodes. Well, there went her good mood.

She'd finished the early morning priority work, and moved on to arguably the most important part of being a Director. Hovering over her department leads' shoulders and checking their work. 'Trust, but verify'. If there was ever a city where that was the mandatory tact of the decade, it was Brockton fucking Bay. They were always 'one more gang war' from being declared defunct, and had been since she'd taken her post here. ...three gang wars ago. So far she'd gotten by arguing how bad it'd look for a regional HQ to be declared a HoSV, but it was always a near thing.

It wasn't like they had that much force to project to the region anyway, what with most of their funding going to Boston for 'non-parahuman assets' to fail to contain the Butcher with. Her mental rambling was derailed when a system alert caught her eye. She checked the details for the alert, double-checked the database for a case and a couple of documents, picked up her phone and punched in a connect code, scowling the whole while.

"Peterson," She said after it was answered. "why do I have a New York judge poking around an incident at your Ward's school? One which I was not aware was even our case?" She gave a beat for the woman to answer, before continuing when she didn't. "Where is Stalker's AAR?"

"She didn't see anything, when-"

"Then that's what should be on official record, in her report. She has until tomorrow to file it." She'd had more than a month to turn something in. A little crunched time was more than fair, here. "Tell her that every morning it's not in the system, I'm pulling her off patrols for a week. That should get her moving." The wards were all varying degrees of bad with paperwork, but Stalker was by far the worst. There was just no initiative in that girl, outside of a fight.

"Yes, ma'am. Anything else, ma'am?" Efficient, punctual, military. All things Piggot liked. She immediately suspected Peterson was nervous about something.

"Coordinate with Davies," The squad commander listed as assigned to the case, who had also failed to turn in a report on the incident. "and figure out who dropped the fucking ball on this one. You've got a week to tell me why it's our jurisdiction, or we're dropping it back on the PD, understood?"

"...yes, ma'am." Ahh, that hint of defeated tone hidden under a mask of professionalism. She was on to something, here. She immediately disconnected the call to get her point across, and sent an email to Davies to the same tone as the call she'd just made, just in case.

Then she looked up everything they had on this 'Taylor Hebert' girl from the locker.

FRI FEB 11

"Console, patch me through to Wards patrol GV." She was escorting the wagon back to the PRT, and figured she should get this out of the way while otherwise unoccupied. "Gallant?" She asked when she'd been connected.

"Miss Militia?" Both of the Wards asked, but then the one she'd asked for continued, "What do you need?"

"You're friends with the Dallon sisters, yes?" It went a tad beyond propriety to needlessly mention relationships over open coms, even if everyone knew.

There was a pause as he considered his answer. "Vicky more than Amy, but... yeah?"

"Panacea was on site at an incident involving our new geokinetic cape, still a no-show. She had a friend with her that I'd like you to keep an eye out for. A girl named Taylor."

Vista cut in, excitedly. "Do you think she's the new cape?" She was always understandably excited about getting more girls on the team.

Militia chuckled. "I don't think so, but I can't rule it out. Something about her seemed off."

"Vicky's been talking about a Taylor, lately." Gallant said, sounding like he was thinking out loud. "But she wouldn't go into details, which is weird for her." He paused, then started again, sounding more confident. "Yeah, I can keep an eye out for her."

"Thank you, Militia out." She reached up to toggle her com, resetting it to its original frequencies.

When I decided how shards work, I cribbed pretty heavily from Mauling Snarks, as the version that made the most sense to me at the time. Shardspace is not a thing, and there's a few butterflies from switching things around.

Danny's part ends a little oddly because there was a vote right there, to involve Gram or not. Wasn't sure if I should tweak it or leave it. Wound up shrugging and going back to writing current stuff instead of worrying about it.

Last edited: Feb 6, 2020

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Threadmarks Chapter 1.7 (Valentine) New

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Dalxein

Dalxein

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Feb 2, 2020

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#32

This was originally Update 13 (Catfight)

As I noticed like a dozen updates later, it also just happened to be post #666 in the original thread.

It is the Valentine's Day update.

Which is just wonderful.

MON FEB 14

Sleeping on the weekend's problems didn't really help. I knew I had to help Dinah, but I had no idea what went into forming a team. I couldn't just post up want ads for capes, that does not good team cohesion make... I decided to just get Amy's advice, the next time I saw her.

That only took... my entire morning weight routine to decide on. Geez I was bad at this... no idea why I'd make a good leader. Maybe I wouldn't? Maybe we'd find another cape who'd make a better team leader, or something. No use thinking about it until it happened.

I was out the door running to school when my thoughts turned to the other offer/demand I'd gotten over the weekend. Who the hell was Old Sue, anyway? She'd seemed nice the week we'd spent working together, even when I pushed her buttons she got more matronly than outright prickly. The one thing I could be sure of was that they weren't part of a cape gang. They'd had some pretty nasty things to say about all the gangs, even the Asian one, and Jake at least had my senses to corroborate the truth in his poor opinion of them. So what the hell was going on?

By the time I'd made it to school, the only thing I was sure of was that even if it was a trap, I could handle it. So before I made my way into the building, I headed off to the side away from the entrance and stopped to dig out my phone and Sue's number.

She picked up on the third ring with a mixed-language greeting that seemed habitual. "Hey, Sue? It's Taylor." Now how to phrase this... "Um, Jake said you wanted to talk? About what?"

"Oh, Taylor. You call me about that today? You never know when an old spinster like me might have a hot date tonight." Sue deflected, causing my cheeks to turn red. Then I thought about it. Why would today be-

"Aw, shit. It's Valentine's, isn't it?" I did not want to deal with this shit today.

"Oh, no worries." Old Sue laughed. "Go find yourself a nice boy for the evening, you can talk with Sue later in the week."

"I'm not really... interested..." I grumbled.

"Oh-ho, so a young lady would be more your preference?"

The old bint was laughing at me. "No! I'm straight, dammit!" I yelled into the phone, drawing a few eyes from the early-rising students. "Why does everyone think I'm gay?"

"It's because you walk like a man."

"What?" The surety and confidence in her voice threw me, when what she'd actually said was processed through my mind. "No I don't."

She chuckled. "You have a very masculine air about you. You keep your hair nice, but you don't wear makeup, cover your curves in baggy clothes-" I bit back the scoff at the notion of having curves. "-you don't show off your legs, and every time you move it is with purpose, not elegance. You walk like a man, dear." I tried to find words to refute hers, but she continued when I couldn't find them. "In my experience, there are two reasons a woman walks like a man. Either it is dangerous to be considered a woman," And oh wasn't there a lot of that in the bay, her tone said. I couldn't help but agree. "or it is because a masculine air makes one listened to more, like men are in most cultures. I sensed a bit of both in you, and it is part of what drew my interest in you." Now that sounded a touch ominous. "I have seen it before, you behave like the runt of your litter. You shy away, like you're afraid of reprisal, but when you are confident, you have a drive to be the most confident thing in the room; to bark twice as loud as others, because that is what you must, to be heard."

Well... shit. That last part actually sounded about right.

"It is that second type that makes people think you might not be straight. Some broadcast masculinity to indicate they are receptive to a more feminine person in a relationship, regardless of gender. Others are sometimes looking for this, and may see it where it isn't. Not just feminine girls liking masculine girls, either. Some masculine boys like masculine girls, masculine boys liking masculine boys, or masculine girls liking masculine girls. The world has all types." I could hear the shrug in her voice.

"Yeah, but... I'm not interested in anything right now." I plead, willing forth some guidance from the old fortune-cookie woman.

"It's Valentine's day on a school day. Sucks to be you, then." Oh goddammit, Sue!

"I could always skip." I muttered.

"I have had your father's number far longer than yours, dear." Shit.

"Yeah, but what do I do?" I groaned.

"Tell all the nice boys and girls who fancy you no. If they don't take no, you slap them. If they still don't take no, you put them in hospital. Not rocket science."

"Some fortune cookie, you are." I groused.

She scoffed. "Fortune cookies are for tourists and idiots."

That had me laughing a little. "Alright, I need to get a shower and head to class. When did you want to meet up?"

"Ehh, seven tomorrow? Can have dinner and tea." She gave me an address, which I wrote down. "Now I need to get to work, then I can come home and watch Casablanca with my cats." She sounded excited, so I was happy for her. I chuckled and said goodbye, hanging up and making my way down to the gym's showers.

The halls were festooned with pink livery. ...well okay, so there were just a couple streamers up in a few of the halls, it still felt like far more than the school should've done. Or rather, since it was probably clubs or a couple students staying after class to do it, than the school should've allowed to be done. The notion that they were celebrating this, forcing the celebration on others, of having someone else shoved into your life whether you like it or not, all for some nebulous, supposed happiness in the future?

It was exhausting. And I hadn't even gotten my morning shower, yet.

While the shower helped, I still felt... squeezed. Hemmed in, by the holiday. I decided to opt for the hoodie today. For all that I might be trying to put a better foot forward at Arcadia, clothing-wise, I still felt much better in more concealing garb. With any luck, people would just ignore me, and everyone could just get on with their week.

After a few minutes roaming the halls, waiting for class, I started to feel a little better. With my hair down the back of my hoodie, the hood up, and my new lack of glasses, it appeared no one recognized me. I watched little gifts and cards be exchanged from a distance, heard the cheer throughout the halls as the holiday spirit took the more exuberant students, saw young couples forming and mingling in the halls, even the one explosive breakup that happened before classes started was met more with playful jeering than anything else. It actually felt... nice... to be invisible in the middle of all this.

I kept my hair down the inside of my hoodie in class, always ready to just flick up my hood and leave. A trick that helped a bit during the worse weeks at Winslow. I knew it wasn't great for my hair, so I'd only used it sparingly; even there where I could convince myself I was protecting my hair from something worse. This was the first time I'd bothered here at Arcadia, so I was surprised when it only lasted through second period.

"Hey Taylor, wait up!" I heard behind me. One of the boys had followed me out of out last class. Kyle... Hayner? Hastings? Hayden? I was sure it was a 'Ha-' name... It was a lot harder to learn people's full names in a school where the teachers actually cared enough to learn their student's faces, to not need to call names for roll. I'd started a month into the semester, after the good teachers had already had the names down.

"Yeah?" I managed to mutter. It was too quiet to be heard over the hall, but he knew I'd addressed him now.

"Are... you wearing contacts? It looks really good on you." My head tilted a bit, not entirely sure what I'd done to warrant the... compliment? I'd liked my glasses. They reminded me of mom's. "I was wondering..." His hand went up behind his head, nervously. Was this happening? "If you'd maybe..." Oh god this was happening. "like to go out later? If you don't have plans today, I mean."

Kyle and I had swapped homework notes a couple times, and I'm pretty sure he still owed me a pencil, but I knew absolutely nothing about him. He was reasonably handsome, about my height, dark brown hair, slightly less pale than I was before I'd started running, making him a touch pastier than I was now...

None of that stopped the shiver of revulsion that crept up my spine, causing me to shrink into myself a bit. "Nnnnooo?" I half-moaned, half-whined, shying away from him. I took a breath and shook myself out. Now was not the time to be consumed by nerves, he'd probably take that as assent that I was free if I left things there. "I don't... I'm sorry, I'm still getting used to things, settling in, I don't..." I could see the hurt in his eyes, now. "I'm just really not in a 'relationship' headspace right now. Maybe next year?"

Oh geez, now he looked devastated. He muttered something and trudged off. I wasn't sure what I'd said or did, so I just leaned against the wall for a second to gather myself after that.

"Wow, you absolutely crushed that dweeb." I turned to see Cassie grinning behind me. "What'd he do to you?"

"Nothing!" I squeaked, "I didn't... he... I didn't mean anything?" I was falling apart, it seemed.

She smirked and raised a brow. "You just told him to wait until next year. At the rate High School socializing works, you might as well have told him to wait until you're 30."

"What?" Oh no. "I just... I was thinking about Valentine's and..." I groaned.

She laughed. "You're such a spazz sometimes, Tay."

"Look, boys are hard, okay?" I snapped.

"Almost constantly, yes." Was her droll reply.

It only sank in with the tittering of the students passing us by, and my face grew red and I groaned again. I'd walked right into that one.

"I'm just no good at romance." I muttered.

She shrugged. "It's not about romance for a lot of these chucklefucks, but I see your point."

"I just need a good excuse..." I thought out loud. If I just had some good reason to turn people down for today, I could get through this. I wracked my brain for something to do when my eyes alighted to the bemused, if somewhat confused countenance of ms Herren. "What're you doing for today?"

Cass scoffed. "What, are you asking me out, now?" There was an underlying hostility to her words, much more strongly apparent to my enhances senses than my normal ones. "Not into girls, if you hadn't noticed."

"No, no." I waved my hands negatively. "I mean... I'm just looking for something to be busy with for the rest of the day, is all. Easier to lie about being busy if I'm not lying, you know?"

She hummed, and thought for a bit. "You know, it has been a while since I've blown off some steam... maybe I can help you out, there."

"Really?" I was hopeful, but also suspicious. Even I could tell Cass was a fairly attractive girl. She had to have a boyfriend if she wanted one, right? Why wasn't she already busy today?

"Sure. You know the old industrial park?" I nodded. It was an area full of old factories, warehouses, and office buildings in the southwest that, while abandoned, weren't nearly as dilapidated or outright condemned as the ones in the docks tended to be. Probably helped by the general lack of squatters. All of the gangs treated the homeless differently- the Merchants welcomed them, the ABB ignored them, but the E88 in the south? It didn't matter if they were white, a lot of the Nazis considered the homeless just as 'subhuman' as they did other races. The minorities in the south at least had their homes to retreat to, the homeless just migrated east to the downtown slums, or north to the docks and the trainyard. "Cool, meet me at Oak Ridge and Burnside at 6. Make sure you wear something you don't mind getting grungy, and I'll take care of the rest."

And with that, she was off, giving me an over-the-shoulder wave, and leaving me feeling incredibly confused about what was going on.

The next time someone stopped me was after another couple periods, when I was on my way to lunch. Someone called out for the 'new girl', and being the only one I knew of, I stopped to see what they wanted. It was a tall, lanky boy. Handsome in that pretty-boy way I was never really into- sure some people could make it work, and this guy was certainly trying, but someone putting that much effort into their appearance tended to spark that they were a threat in my head, these days- he was white, with light brown hair, narrow features, and high cheekbones. He looked aristocratic, with a calm self-assurance that told me he was used to getting what he wanted.

Emma would've been all over him, which turned me right off.

Nothing about him gave me any idea as to good reasons he'd be seeking me out, and I'd already decided I didn't like him. By the time he'd caught up to me, I was frowning, huddled in my hoodie, preparing for the worst.

"Hey there, you looked a little lonely, dressed up like that." He smiled winningly, and held out his hand. "Jim Hawkins" When I didn't take his hand, he continued. "Thought maybe we could hang out later today, get to know each other a little better?" There was that confidence again, couldn't he see I wasn't interested?

"I'm busy today, sorry." I stated, starting to turn away.

"Hey, don't be like that." He cut in, drawing me back. "I just thought you deserved a good time. You never know, I could be your Valentine~." He actually sung out the last notes of his sentence a little.

I grimaced away, finishing my turn and barking out a quick "No."

His face scrunched up into a sneer when I couldn't 'see' it, and he reached out toward my shoulder. He was saying something, but I wasn't paying attention at this point.

I whirled around, arm outstretched and two fingers pointing less than an inch from his nose. "No." I stated more firmly. I wasn't sure if it was the tone, or the proximity that had him flinching back. Probably both.

"Fine, whatever." He said, backing away. The wind brought the quiet 'bitch' he muttered to my ears, and I kept my senses on him as he turned away.

He started scanning the crowd in the hall, and it took me a moment to realize he was looking for marks. He'd wanted to find someone desperate, butter them up with a nice 'date' and then guilt them into 'having fun' afterward. I wasn't playing his game, so he was looking for someone else to use.

I couldn't help the shudder of revulsion that ran up my body. I edged over to the wall and leaned against it, hugging my arms to myself. I felt dirty just thinking about it, and felt bad that as far as I could tell, there wasn't anything I could do about it, besides hoping the other girls he tried to talk up also told him off.

With my arms around myself, trying not to hyperventilate or tear up, I realized I needed help. Someone, something, any sort of distraction to break my mind away from this.

I wanted a hug.

That thought caused me to hiccup a little with the intake of breath it brought. How long had it been since I'd wanted something like that? I shook my head, trying not to think about it. This wasn't the time or place for wallowing. I stepped out into the slowly thinning masses, letting the current draw me towards the food and crowds of the lunch room.

After I finally made it to the cafeteria, I made a beeline for the familiar presences I felt seated in their usual place. "Amy," I whined as I collapsed into one of the empty chairs beside the girl sitting at the edge of her sister's little fief. "Save me." I fell into her side and latched my arms around her waist like a limpet. She let out a trumpet-sounding noise between a harrumph and a raspberry as she blushed and stiffened under my grip, her heartbeat spiking. Most of the table was looking at us now, but I was having trouble caring. These past couple weeks had reintroduced me to hugs after more than a year's dry spell, and I'd started feeling clingy when I got as moody as I was now. It reminded me of when I used to do this to Emma whenever someone would pick on me in middle school, and for once I didn't push the thought away, instead clenching my grip tighter as I shoved my be-hooded head into the crook of her neck. "Boys keep asking me out."

I could feel Amy's wide eyes and clenched teeth as she met the gaze of half the school's socialites."That sounds like a personal problem." She spat, getting more agitated, but still not making any move to dislodge me. "And what happened to you being straight?"

"Still straight." I whined quietly into her shoulder. "Just scared."

I felt her tension unwind, both in my senses and my grip, and she turned her head to look down at me with a soft look. "Oh, Taylor..." She muttered in a long-suffering, kindly way. Her hand reached up under my hood to rustle my hair a bit, her heart-rate climbing again. Honestly it felt like she was angry with me, furious even, but she sounded and acted like she didn't mind at all? I was very confused, but also very comfortable. We stayed like that for a moment before she started to push my head away from her. "Get off me, you doof." She chuckled.

I giggled nervously as I let her push me away, shifting about more than properly moving into my seat would really require. I was blushing a bit now, too. Especially after I caught the eyes looking at us with my own. It just felt so much more visceral to see it instead of just feeling it... Most of them were wide eyed and various levels of stunned or nervous. Vicky was the obvious exception, simply a bundle of energy excited that we were still getting along well enough that I didn't get mauled for touching her sister. The worst affected was a paling sandy blond sitting near Victoria, whose mouth was rather notably agape as he stared at the two of us. My eyes were drawn to him by the feeling he gave off in my senses- shocked silly, knocking out most of the tells with their lack; but otherwise agitated and even a little... afraid? Our eyes met, and I could hear his jaw shut when he closed it.

Vicky must have noticed, because she decided to introduce us. "Taylor, this is my boyfriend Dean. Dean, this is Amy's friend Taylor." I could feel a spike of pain and hesitation at her words implying I wasn't her friend, but none of it showed in her manner or voice. If nothing else, she'd make a good actress. "Isn't it nice that Amy's making her own friends?" Her chipper tone brooked absolutely no argument from anyone in earshot. This I could tell she actually felt fairly positive about. She loved her sister, and wanted Amy to be happy. Vicky just also wanted to be everyone's friend, even mine. Maybe I'd been a bit hard on her? I should call her later this week and see if she wanted to hang out.

"Uhh, yeah." He drew the words out. "That's great." He added, much more concisely.

It took a beat before I worked up the nerve to actually talk to them, but I managed it before the silence started to grate. "So what are your plans for today?"

Vicky squealed quietly- I wasn't even aware that was a thing people actually did- and floated over to her beau. "We're going out!" As if there'd been any doubt. "We're flying down to Boston for a show, then we have reservations at le Charmante, and then we're going out for a movie!" Was that french? it sure sounded like it, especially the way she said it. Did she speak French, or just like saying fancy names? Dean just chuckled and nodded along to his girlfriend's enthusiasm. I turned to Amy, to show who I expected to speak up next.

She shrugged. "I got nuthin'." She waved over at her still floating sister. "Their plans are too fancy for the stupid double-dates-" Vicky cried out indignantly at that. "-they drag me to, so I'm off the hook. I'm supposed to avoid the hospital though, since it's Monday, so I need to find something to do." She turned back to me, appraisingly. "You wanna hang out?"

"I, uh... I'm hanging out with-" I almost said Cass, but hers might not be the best name to drop here. "-another friend, later on. I'm free for a few hours after school, though."

I could see Amy's eyes narrow, and her jaw set. She knew who I was talking about, and she didn't like it. "What, I thought you said you didn't have a date?" She asked, waspishly.

"I don't!" I said, raising my hands in surrender, "I just didn't want to have to lie when I told boys I was busy already, and I didn't know what you were doing today, when I made the plans."

Her demeanor softened with a small huff. "Fine, I'll take a couple hours." She turned away. "I can head home and read or something for the rest of the night."

Well, she was still a tad frosty, but she'd calmed down a bit. I'd make it up to her later. "So what about the rest of you?" I asked our still mostly quiet spectators.

"Why don't you go get food first, then we'll talk about all that." Vicky cut in, only now floating back to her own nearly-forgotten food. It sounded like a good idea, so I headed off to get in line.

My day picked up after that. The food helped, as did the excitement the others had for their plans for tonight. Everyone seemed to be doing something, even if it was just dinner or a movie. A group of dateless teens were heading down to a couple of clubs tonight for 'singles specials' going on, or in the hopes they'd get lucky. The excitement was infectious, and pretty soon even Amy was getting into it, lashing out to tease 'dateless shmucks' and flustered young lovers alike.

It was... nice.

Tiring, though. I meandered through the next period, recovering from the social exhaustion, buoyed by the lingering excitement from earlier.

It seems word got around, and no other boys tried to approach me today. That didn't stop the girls, though. A tiny, pug-nosed, but otherwise cute Asian girl came up to me to give me a card before last period. I told her that I wasn't really into girls, and she seemed to take being let down well. I still felt like I'd kicked a puppy afterward, though.

"So, let's head to the gym." Amy said, when I met her after school.

"Why the gym?" She seemed a tad flustered, but was hiding it well.

"They've got mats and things that clubs can use, I figure no one'll be there today, so we can use them." I... guess that made sense. It didn't feel like she was lying, but her hesitance seemed to indicate this wasn't everything. Maybe she really was upset a little about being left out of the whole dating bonanza going on?

I decided to leave it for now. "Sure." I followed her over, and sure enough there were students making use of the weight sets, and a few sets of mats set out, though not all of them were being used. Amy was probably right about the usual clubs being more busy than usual, there. A few words to the assistant coach watching the gear, and we had one of the mats to ourselves.

By the time we were done brushing up on falls and working our way through kata to check her form, word had spread that one of the school's capes were showing off in the gym. Students trickled in, and many of the ones who'd been busy were turning eyes towards us, or giving up on their prior activities entirely to watch.

I had no idea what was so interesting. They went to school with Amy every day, right? It's not like we were wearing skimpy training outfits, we both still had shirts and pants on, no 'shorts and training bra' skin showing to draw people, and neither of us were big enough to be titillatingly jiggly as we moved and mock-fought. Amy's bust had to be at least twice the size of mine, but as long as she was wearing a bra, there wasn't any proper 'boob physics' on display there, either.

The less time spent thinking about mine, the better, in my opinion.

It still felt like the number of people sparsely dotting the bleachers had gone up by a factor of eight or ten, by the time we were halfway into our sparring, but it mercifully slowed after that. Didn't these people have dates to get to!?

"Hey girl, you been holding out on us?" a perky voice called from the sidelines.

Amy groaned, and I turned to look. The girl who'd spoken was a dusky blonde with hair down to her middle back. She had a bottom-heavy figure, wide hips and thick thighs, a slightly paunchy waist, and a somewhat average bust. Way above myself or Amy anyway, but not quite up in the 'busty' league with Vicky and some of their other friends. She looked very... soft.

My quick glance to assess her drew up to her round face full of laugh lines, and shining brown eyes.

Which she used to wink at me.

Given my previous thought process, I couldn't help the blush that tore across my face.

"Go away, Kara." Amy groused.

She pouted. "When you haven't even introduced me to your cute friend properly yet?"

Now I know she had to be making fun of me. Cute? Me? Not happening. My senses telling me she was being honest must need more work, what with the foam mat I was standing on.

Amy sighed, but complied. "Kara, this is Taylor. Taylor, this is that lesbian slut friend of Vicky's I was telling you about."

She clapped excitedly, ending with her hands pressed together in front of her wide grin. "You do talk about me!"

I'm pretty sure Amy was screaming internally, rigidly tense and wheezing out quietly whistling breaths as she tried not to explode. "Do I need to get the spritz bottle?" Amy said finally. "Because I'll get the spritz bottle."

Kara raised her hands in defeat. "No no, no need for that." Were they... actually serious? "I just wanted to stop by and see what all the fuss was about. It's good that you're taking your self-defense seriously. You know we worry about you." The heartfelt way she said it led me to believe she was being honest. I'm not sure if Amy didn't trust it, or heard it too often for it to have an impact, but she hardly reacted. Kara turned to me next. "If you're up for it, I think a few of the other girls would love to have someone teach them some basics. Most of the instructors these days are handsy boys." She shrugged helplessly, then winked again and made a grasping motion with both hands. "Handsy girls are a different beast entirely~." she sang.

I blushed again. I heard Amy mutter "Fuck it." and move over to her backpack.

"Anyway, I think it'd be a good thing to do after school, if you want. I'd be fun, and I'll be there." She huskily whispered the last part. Amy was glaring at her from where she as squatting by her backpack. "I've got to go, though, I have a long day with the girls to look forward to." She backed off to a safer distance before she added, "And then a long night after that~."

That was when Amy whipped a tiny blue bottle out from her bag's pouches, spraying streams of water at the surprisingly nimble Kara, who dodged most of the shots while cackling happily on her way towards the doors.

I let that entire exchange sink in for a few moments, before I turned to Amy. "You really have a spritz bottle to ward off horny lesbians?"

"The word you're looking for is 'thirsty'." Amy grinned wickedly. "I have a spritz bottle to chase off thirsty lesbians." I raised a hand to refute the wording, my mouth working to try and find words, when she turned it my way and fired, splashing it into my mouth and nose. I sputtered and coughed, trying to choke the taste of stale tapwater out of my mouth while I wiped the wetness away from my face with my hands. "It seems to work just fine."

"You bitch!" I yelled, leaping at her to tackle her back to the mat. I used my undeniably superhuman strength to mostly ignore her struggles as I fisted handfuls of her blouse and used it to wipe my hands and face dry. We were giggling and wrestling on the floor for a bit after that, much to the glee and catcalling of the crowd. It would've gone on longer if they hadn't started with that.

We rather deliberately moved into showing Amy new forms, strikes, and counters after that. Moving slowly to give the gawkers little to watch. By the time we got close to finishing an hour later, more than half the students had left, I thought.

"So what do you think?" I asked when we'd gotten to cool-down stretches.

"About what?" was the gruff reply.

"The thing Kara was talking about. Helping other girls with martial arts after school."

She hesitated, pausing in her motions to think. "I don't know." She felt unhappy with it, but I couldn't tell why. "It sounds like a self-defense class, but there's a bunch of those around town already."

I knew there were places that did that sort of thing, but they were all dying off in the bay. The only civic center I knew was still working was downtown, just south of the boardwalk. Still too far north for the people in the slums south of there, where the buses didn't run and no one had cars anymore. An hour's walk to and from anything in that part of town was suicide. Then again, if people could survive the slums, they probably had self-defense down, by now. All of the martial arts studios and dojos dad and I had looked into were dodgy these days, either they'd been burned down, subsumed by the gangs, or seemed desperate for paying customers. Our guess was the gangs harassing their patrons, which didn't bode well for me trying any of them. The women's shelters around town could help, but with the Empire putting pressure on the ones in their territory to only accept 'the right sort' and the terrible things that'd happened at the ones set up in the other gangs' territories?

It seemed like the only part of town getting any help was the one that didn't need it.

"It's up to you, though." Amy continued. She didn't show it outwardly, but she was getting frustrated, anxious, stressed. "And... you do need to socialize a bit more..." she grumbled. Her breathing picked up, working her into a foul mood. "You're meeting Herren soon, right?" She hissed, low enough the other students wouldn't hear.

I nodded, not sure where she was going with this, but not wanting to set her off by saying the wrong thing.

She must have noticed me shutting down a bit, waiting for her to explode. She let out a deep breath in a quiet sigh, and her features softened. Her heartbeat sped up, but all her other mood indicators said she was calming down. "I'm just worried about you."

"Hey." I reached over and took her hand, and she blushed a little. Must be embarrassed, me doing this in front of a crowd. "I'll be fine." I whispered. "You know my powers, they're great for running away. She could lead me straight to Hookwolf, and he'd never catch me."

"Yeah," She muttered, pulling her hand from mine and chuckling ruefully. Her stress tension was going back up as she turned away from me and added, "she's no Hookwolf."

"You still haven't told me why you dislike her so much." I stated, giving it a beat. "It can't just be the gang thing, their girls don't fight." Modern Nazis they might be, they were still incredibly misogynistic. Only Hookwolf's branch really used female foot soldiers, all of them the brawny or scrappy types that fought in the fighting pits he ran. Cass didn't have any of the marks that'd bring, and her long hair wouldn't survive it anyway. Even if she was a supporter, even if she was working for the Empire, she couldn't be one of their real gangsters, in my mind.

Amy sent a glare past me to the remaining milling crowd. They'd started dispersing further when we started our conversation, but some had stuck around. This drove home that we didn't want to be listened to. Or, since she started heading toward the locker rooms, followed, apparently.

She stormed into the room, with me following behind. There were a couple girls changing, and a few more lounging around chatting with them. Amy slammed her fist into one of the lockers by the door, catching the eye of every girl there, and pointed with her thumb out the door we'd come through. I was standing behind her, but the glare on her face must have been legendary. The girls took a few seconds to finish putting themselves together in a publicly decent way and left with only a few muttered imprecations Amy's way.

I followed her partway into the room, then watched her check the showers and behind the other rows of lockers, before motioning me into the shower area. She got into the near one, turned the shower head as far towards the wall as it would go and turned it on, dodging the spray as she led me to the back of the room.

Finally, she crossed her arms and huffed. "I can't."

Frustrated semi-truth. A very strong won't. "Can you tell me why?"

She looked at me like I was an idiot. "No. I can't."

I shook my head and rubbed at my face and hair, trying to alleviate my exasperation. "Is this going to be a problem?"

She chuckle-scoffed, waving her hands to indicate the room. "It's already a fucking problem."

"Why can't you just trust me to be okay?"

"Why can't you just take me at my word?" She snapped back. "That's my fucking problem. You don't trust me!"

I wanted to snap, to lash out, but instead I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and held it. I let it out and took another, not bothering to hold this one.

Then I started taking my clothes off.

Hey, I needed to change for Cass' thing anyway, and we were already in the locker room, so why not?

The look on her face as I stripped down to my panties and sports bra was almost enough to make me break out laughing. That wide-eyed blush and slightly agape mouth. What was going through her head? What the hell did she think I was doing? I shook my head with a smirk. It didn't matter. She was still worked up, her heart beating fast now, but it didn't matter if she was still angry. I had a point to make.

"I do trust you." I said as I folded up my clothes. "I trusted you with my powers, I trust you to be my friend. To do what you think is right." I stopped and thought, slipping into my jogging pants. "That might not always be what I think is right, and that's okay." I was gripping my ratty running shirt and the old hoodie I'd worn all day. "It's okay." I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince her or myself, at this point. "It's okay." I strained hard against my muscles, to not simply tear the clothing apart.

I sucked in a breath, sniffled, and let it go. I turned to Amy, who looked startled, anxious, and sad. I threw the shirt on before I could do something I regretted to it.

"I trust you, Amy." I threw the hoodie on next, then stared her in the eyes. "I trust you as much as I'm capable of trusting another person."

I grabbed up my thermos, slipping its strap over my head, before grabbing my bag. I turned back to her one last time, and added. "I'm sorry if that's not enough for you."

Then I left.

I was still mad, frustrated, sad... but also exhausted. I just didn't want to think right now, so for the next half hour or so, I really didn't. I was just past the towers, riding the bus that mostly existed to serve that area past it, to the commercial area southwest of it, where the old industrial park was. That was when I got a text. Just a simple two words, from Amy.

'I'm sorry'

I stared at it for almost a minute, before I replied.

'Me, too.'

Avatar Taylor (Worm Quest)

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Dalxein

Dalxein

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Feb 3, 2020

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#37

Originally update 14, little shorter than usual.

MON FEB 14

The walk did me a world of good, letting me calm down and hope that things were well and truly patched up from the shower incident... yeah, no. Not calling it that. I couldn't help the chuckle. At least I was feeling better.

When I made it to the industrial park, I stopped before I got close to the intersection Cass wanted me to meet her at. I'd told Amy I wasn't going to be stupid about this, and I wanted to hold to that. The whole place was fairly deserted- there was the odd person in an alleyway, the rare car passing through, but on a day like today most people were already where they were heading which cut down traffic, or they had no reason to be here, turning the place into a bit of a ghost town. Sure, some of the people might be homeless and passing through, but they wouldn't stay. You learned to stay out of these areas pretty quick in this town; even I'd heard about the bands of young white thugs scouring their territory for people who wouldn't be missed that they can make disappear. It was more likely in my mind that they were dealers with nothing better to do today than fall back on standing orders. I certainly wasn't going to cry for their lack of business.

I could feel someone at the intersection, though. The right shape and height to be Cass, wearing a backpack full of gear I wasn't familiar enough with to make out. One of the buildings on the corner- an old, mostly stripped out office building- had a few people rummaging around in it. They were digging through packs of their own, or setting things up around the building, though the why still eluded me.

It didn't... seem like a trap, at any rate. So I continued my walk towards her, finding her waiting under a lit lamppost, checking her watch and rustling her gear. She wasn't wearing the same clothes she went to school in; these being a bit rattier, torn up jeans and a worn, paint-speckled hoodie. I hadn't taken her for an artist, but maybe I was missing something. She finally caught sight of me and waved me over.

"Good! You showed up." She started leading me toward the office building. "I'd get bitched at if I couldn't keep the teams even."

"So, what are we doing?" I asked, nervously.

"Y'ever shoot someone, before?"

I stopped, sputtered, and screeched. "What!?"

She stopped, looked back at me, visibly thought back to what she'd said, and scoffed. Still, she dropped her bag and ripped into it pretty quickly, showing off some thin body armor vests and guns, complete with 'this is a fake' orange tips on the barrels. "It's paintball. Paintball. Not real shit."

I could tell she felt a bit nervous, but wasn't lying.

"O...kay?" I muttered. "You wanted to... shoot me?"

She groaned, rolling her eyes. "I want to have fun splattering assholes with paint going fast enough to bruise their pasty asscheeks." She packed things up just enough to sling it over her shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry. I said it weird, and you took it bad. That's on me." She started towards the building. "Now do you wanna hang out, or not?"

Hesitantly, I followed behind her. The door opened to a decent sized room with hallways off to the side, and a secretary's nook missing its desk and chair, but retaining the hook-ups for phone and computer lines, as well as likely-permanent scuffs and dents in the carpet where they used to be. She kept right on without slowing, heading straight through another set of doors that led into a large foyer area lined with offices. I could picture it divvied up into cubicles for low-ranking office clerks, or used as a communal space, maybe a break room. Now though, it was speckled with colored splotches along parts of the wall, and piled up with mobile cubicle dividers, planks and boards, and bits of large, solid-looking detritus that looked more thoroughly painted.

Cass brought her hand up to her mouth, stuck fingers in, and let out a shrill scream of a whistle that had me covering my ears.

"Oww?" I whined into the quiet that followed.

Cass just laughed. "Get over it, wuss." She turned to watch the doors, and sucked on her lips for a moment in thought. "Then again, if you can't handle a little noise, you might be a bit dainty for paintball?"

She was trying to give me an out, phrasing it like a question. I shook my head. "Nah, I'll be fine." I was a lot tougher than I looked, after all. I'm pretty sure I wasn't bulletproof, but for all I knew I might be paintball-proof.

The people filing into the room were a surprising bunch, given who'd gathered them. Six other teenagers, only three of them white. "Alright, listen up!" Cass shouted needlessly. "This here's Taylor. She's new, and I'm bringing her in, so she's gonna be on my team. These assholes are Matt," Baby-faced and black-haired, but otherwise fairly average. "Jeremy," Thin, narrow faced, angular features, sandy-blond. "and Tim," Brown hair, fairly average, seemed a little shy. It didn't escape my notice that she'd introduced the white teens first. "Tim's uncle works for the bank that owns the building, so they'll ignore little shit like paint everywhere, as long as we don't knock any walls down." She didn't mention windows, but I got the feeling she didn't actually care about wrecking the place. She pointed at the other three, standing a bit away from them. "This is Carlos," He was big and Latino, with long hair up in a ponytail and a face that could never be pretty, but was handsome in a rugged sort of way. He had the look of someone who got shit done. He'd been looking fairly neutral the whole time I'd seen him, but his eyes never strayed far from Cass, sparing me an assessing look, a few glances at the others, and going back to watching her. "Jakob," Tall lanky beanpole of a black teen, "And Sarah." The only other girl of the group, though I could hardly tell at a glance. She was a short, thin Asian girl with short-cropped black hair, her hips and bust hidden entirely by her slightly baggy clothes.

"It's Serei, actually." The girl said, her voice much more obviously feminine than the rest of her. "But nobody calls me by my real name." She'd turned to Jakob, who I'd just realized had been hovering rather close to the girl this whole time, and said her words with a cutting pointedness that lead me to believe there was a story, there.

"It was one time..." He whined.

"And now I'm stuck being Sarah." She groused. She didn't seem mad, just poking at her... friend?

"You two gonna fuck, or are you actually here to play ball?" Cassie snarked.

Gonna guess boyfriend, then. Jakob sputtered and blushed, even through his dark skin, while Serei slapped his arm and flipped off Cass.

"What about Taylor's gear?" Carlos asked, quirking an eyebrow and crossing his arms.

Cass shrugged. "I brought spares, I'll sort her out in a sec." she grinned. "Since I picked her first, why don't you go, pendejo?"

Oh wow I hoped she was mispronouncing that on purpose, otherwise her Spanish was atrocious. From Carlos' grin- all teeth, like a polite snarl- and middle finger, I figured this was a regular thing with them. I was starting to think they weren't even friends, but then why would he be here?

Either way, he picked Serei, who gave an excited giggle and started rummaging through her gear. Cass picked Matt, who was already mostly suited up. Carlos grabbed Jakob next, then Jeremy went to our side, and Tim was left to the other side. He seemed incredibly disappointed with this, and I was starting to get the feeling he was only here because he had a thing for Cassie. I couldn't help but feel a little bad for him.

She flipped a coin,. and Carlos called it. "Alright, you're setting up, up top. You've got fifteen before we come in after you." Cass said, which got a nod and a wave to follow from him.

"So," She said, turning to me. "It's good you're wearing crap," I didn't think it was that bad... I'd actually thought this was one of my best hoodies... but I was due for new ones, probably... "You want the mask, or the helmet?" She'd dug a large biker-esque helmet out of her bag, and pulled a mostly-rigid facemask out of it. It looked sort of like a set of ski goggles with an angular plastic protrusion under it to block down to the chin and around the cheeks, with some thin slits for air and talking.

"Mask is fine." And my head was probably harder than hers, anyway.

"Neat. We can pull up your hood to keep paint off your hair, then strap the mask on over it." She pulled some more gear out and started sorting it. "Not that anyone should be aiming for your head, but shit happens." She fiddled with one of the padding vests. "Speaking of, no head shots, dick shots, or..." She'd started slipping it over my head, when she snorted. "was gonna say no tit shots, but it's not like Sarah has any."

That was... actually pretty mean, I thought. I frowned and kept silent, though. Better to see how the group actually interacted for now, since I had no idea what 'normal' was for them. Maybe this was normal? It sure sounded like something the trio would've said about another girl, if they were up to something like this. I couldn't help but hate that the first girls I thought of when trying to compare social interactions were still them. Toxic as they might have been, they'd left a huge impact on me.

I almost missed Cassie talking, I was so focused on trying to stifle the thoughts.

"Rules are pretty simple, today. You keep going until you're body-shot." She patted my now-padded torso with the back of her hand. "Then you're 'dead'. You're dead? You come back here and sit things out." She started doing up her own gear. "Last team standing wins. Usually we'd do something like capture the flag, hold the base, three or four team skirmish, but we don't have as many people today." Next she started helping me with the mask, hair bundled in my hood, having me hold the edges of it out of my line of sight while she strapped the thing on. "First person out keeps time, if they're out for fifteen minutes and the game's still going, we'll call it. Most people up wins."

"And how..." Oh wow my voice sounded weird. Loud and slightly echo-ey. "How long are we going for?"

She shrugged. "Don't think we have the ammo for more than an hour or two." She dug out a few red scarves and handed me one. "Tie that somewhere. Other team's blue. Take it off if you're dead." She handed out a few more to the guys, then knelt down to cinch her wound-up scarf tightly aroung her thigh. That actually looked a little uncomfortable, and I didn't think I could tie mine around my bicep by myself, so I settled for tying it around my neck, assuming it was fine. The boys seemed used to this process, but were helping each other when they needed it, like Cass had with me.

Then she got out the guns, showed me how to shoot, reload, and shot me in the leg so I'd know what to expect. It stung a bit, but I didn't think it'd leave a welt like I'd heard they were supposed to. Was really hoping my brute package came with tougher skin, at least. I still didn't have anything I could point to as clear evidence for it yet, just a feeling that I could take more than I used to.

I studiously ignored the little thought in the back of my head, that every stupid teenager thought they were invincible.

"Alright, we don't know for sure where they're set up, but Carlos likes the offices in the southeast corner, third floor, so that's probably where they're at." Actually, I could tell they weren't, but I wasn't about to out myself over a stupid game. "Taylor, you hang back this run, get a feel for things. We'll take point."

The rest of the time was spent milling about or checking phones for a couple minutes, before Cass had us start down one of the hallways towards a flight of stairs. We headed straight for the top floor, passing by Carlos' group on the second. They were camped out in some of the rooms near the stairs, and I thought I saw what was coming next. We made it to the third floor landing, and Cass made some gestures with her hand, causing the group to fan out and start searching rooms.

Sure enough, when we were halfway down the hall, the group downstairs started for the stairs. I didn't want to seem too prescient, so I just waited by the door to one of the little offices, and just 'happened' to be looking back at the stairs to catch a glimpse of the group setting up their ambush. I'm pretty sure I locked eyes with the biggest guy, probably Carlos judging by build, his head covered by a helmet and a blue scarf tied over the lower facemask part like a bandit mask. He started raising his weapon and I ducked into the room.

"Cass! Behind us!"

Then it was chaos. Jeremy got laid out by half a dozen rounds from three different guns. Cass got tagged in the shoulder, but kept firing back. Matt managed to dodge the shots at him. I just waited and 'watched' the patterns of exchanging fire, those first few moments of combat.

I fired a few ranging shots from cover to check my gun's aim, doing a passable job of also being suppressing fire. When I was confident I had the aim down, I waited. When Carlos started leaning out from behind the doorframe into the stairwell to take his shots, I fired.

I didn't mean for the shot to land in the actual doorframe, but that turned out to my advantage. The paint splattered onto his visor, doing a better job startling him than just the shot near his head I'd planned. His momentum carried him forward naturally through his stumble, and I tagged him in the side while his arms were up to try and catch his balance.

He rolled with the blow, ripped the scarf off his mask as he got up, cursed a few times in Spanish, and started down the stairs. By the time I'd finished watching him go, Cass had tagged Tim while he was watching the spectacle. Now we were three against two, had routed the ambush, and had the upper hand.

I couldn't keep the grin off my face.

"Did you bring a fucking shark?" Carlos snapped when we all got to the main room. We'd won- Cass got tagged out before we did, but she'd stuck around to watch the rest of the fight, just me and Matt left up. I could tell from his grin and pulse that he wasn't really mad, but I think he had to play it up because it was Cass.

"Don't need it to kick your ass." She spat back, smirking.

Carlos shook his head and chuckled on his way over to me. "This really your first time?"

Should a boy really be asking a girl that? I pushed down the traitorous part of my brain that'd thought that, fighting down my blush. I wasn't sure I was successful. "Yeah, never done anything like this before."

I could see him grinning under his helmet. "Well you're a good shot for a first-timer." He paused for a second. "Also helps you got lucky with the ambush."

I shrugged. "I've been dodging ambushes at Winslow for years. Kinda' habit at this point." He made a 'yeah, sure' sort of grunt that had me wondering if he'd spent a year or two there, himself.

"Alright, enough of that." Cass called. "Five minutes to round two. Call it!"

We spent the next hour or so like that, going back and forth on which team had the initiative, before we ran out of ammo, and drive to continue.

"Some of these assholes have late-night dates to get to." Cass said, when we were packing up.

"This kinda' was our date." Jakob said, hugging Serei into his side, the short girl winding up lodged under his arm, causing her to grumble and slap playfully at him. "But it might be nice to catch dinner or something, too." Serei shook her head with a smile, going back to packing up gear, which she handed to him to lug back to their car.

"I'll lock up." Cass told Tim after everyone said their goodbyes. "I'll get the keys back to you at school."

He looked a bit uncomfortable at that, but caved. I think it said something that Cass already had the keys, to let her insist on keeping them. I couldn't help but feel a bit bad for him. "You know he likes you, right?" I said when they'd gone.

She rolled her eyes. "I know that, and he knows I don't like him that way." She started for the roof, and I followed. "I give him all the tools to say no, not my fault if he doesn't." That... sounded pretty skeevy, honestly. It wasn't my problem and I'd already said something, though. I'd see if I could talk to him about it later.

We made it to the roof, which was littered with more debris that could be moved inside for cover, along with some slabs of asphalt and concrete piled up around the area. Cass tossed her bag down to lay against it, looking up at the dark sky. There were never many stars out, we had to deal with light pollution from not just our city, but Boston and the rest of the nearby cities, too. The Protectorate's rig glowing out in the bay at all hours of the day wasn't helping either. It was pretty impressive that we could still see any stars, at all.

I'd let the silence hang too long, though. So I asked, "Why aren't you heading home?"

She scoffed, and stayed quiet for a bit longer. "Don't wanna talk about it."

"I can't help if I don't know." The words slipped out quietly.

The silence grew slightly tense, and I could tell even in the dark, looking away from me, that she was scowling. "Home hasn't been great, lately." I leaned against the short wall around the roof, and waited patiently. "You know how my family's 'Empire', right?" I could hear the air quotes, and hesitantly agreed. "They're really not. You can look up my family online and find enough if you dig a little. We're mostly based down south a bit, Virginia, Georgia, the Carolinas... about all we've got is manpower, though. So they send me up here, with a few dozen 'cousins' to buff up the empire numbers."

I was starting to worry that I was diving a little too deeply into gang politics, just listening to this. Still, nothing she said pinged 'untrue', so I assumed I really could have found all this online if I'd bothered digging.

She heaved a sigh. "Butter up the Empire, who've got everything we don't. Shitting fucktons of money, guns, and connections with the bigger groups in Europe and out west." She made vague gestures in directions I didn't think matched the directions at all, but she didn't care. "Get them to share the wealth. All that means is, I'm stuck here in this shithole city, living with people happy to be here, waiting to go home." Which she... didn't actually sound thrilled with.

"What's wrong about going home?"

She bristled at that, and glared at me through the gloom. She huffed a couple quiet deep breaths, and said, "That's family business." Before flopping her weight back down on the bag. It really couldn't be that comfortable...

I shook my head and tried to change my mental gears, "So what, some mafia 'marry into the family' thing?"

From the way she tensed and stopped breathing for a few seconds, I'd hit the nail on the head. "I'm not gonna press," I added. "Not interested in the gang stuff, no matter which gang you're really in."

The tension bled out of her, slowly. We sat in less-uncomfortable silence for a bit, she seemed lost in her own little world, so I struggled to find something to talk about. "So... paintball?"

"Yeah?" She nearly snapped.

"You just... don't seem the type, at school." She really didn't. Preppy social circles, expensive clothes, long hair, delicately thin body and features... today was really a surprise all around.

She scoffed. "Yeah, you keep up on those assumptions, I'm sure I'll cry at your funeral."

I sighed and muttered, "Anyone ever tell you you're kind of a bitch?"

She chuckled. "Only about half the damn city."

I shook my head with a small smile. "So why paintball?"

"I dunno." Cass shrugged, looking straight up into the sky while I waited. "Just... nice to cut loose, I guess? Go around hurting people, knowing you can't really hurt anyone..." Sounded pretty contradictory to me. "It's just fun." She finished with a shrug. "Some of the people aren't great, though. Tim's a doormat, a couple of the guys are Empire and heckle whatever colored friends I bring along, and Carlos won't leave me alone..." She hushed up after that, realizing she'd said too much."

"What's wrong with Carlos?" I didn't have any problem with him, and while they were a bit antagonistic, they didn't seem like they couldn't get along.

She sighed. "He's a spic and I'm a 'Nazi'. Pretty self-explanatory." I didn't miss that she'd only bothered with air quotes for her, but she was opening up, so I let her have it. "He keeps inviting himself along to whatever he can, keeping an eye on me." she simpered the last part mockingly. "He's just polite enough not to say he's making sure I'm not out lynching street trash."

"And here I was, hoping it was just some unresolved sexual tension, or something." I muttered.

"What? No. Eww, no." She shuddered, and I could feel her gagging. The physical revulsion surprised me, like I'd just suggested she fornicate with the beloved family dog, rather than a relatively handsome teenager.

"Is it boys, or...?" I'd met a surprising number of not-straight girls lately, one more wouldn't be surprising, though the circumstances would be hilarious... and more than a little sad.

She gave one last grossed out throaty noise, before she replied. "Nah, I like dick, I just have preferences." She hopped to her feet and grabbed her bag. "And with that, I think I'd prefer going home over talking about my sex life." She made a shooing motion, and herded me toward the door.

I let her usher me outside. "Thanks for the games?" I asked, not sure if I was saying it right. 'Thanks for the sports' will never be a thing I actually say out loud.

She smirked, leaning against the frame of the big entrance double-doors. "Yeah, sure. See you at school, tomorrow."

"See ya." I shot back, and she shut and locked the door. I stood there awkwardly, watching her putter about the building for a bit, before I started towards the bus stop.

I was caught up thinking about how weird today had been, and it took me a couple blocks to realize I couldn't feel Cassie anymore. I searched the nearby blocks with my senses, and even gave in to the instinctual urge to look around, even though I knew it wouldn't help. In the end, I shrugged. She must have gotten picked up or something.

Last edited: Feb 3, 2020

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Dalxein

Dalxein

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Feb 4, 2020

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#46

TUE FEB 15

I didn't sleep well that night. It wasn't just the 'dream training' getting weird and metaphysical on me, I was worried about the meeting I had later today, and still felt conflicted over the situation I'd seen with Cassie yesterday, and... Amy.

Hoo boy, Amy.

A part of my brain likened the gnawing worry over whether we were still friends to the anticipation of the Trio's bullshit every day. It was convinced things couldn't go anything but poorly, and it was hard to hold out hope that there wouldn't just be another fight.

I woke up early, it was getting harder and harder to sleep in past sunrise, these days. I'd been up before 7AM every day this week, and that showed no signs of changing. I sighed and resigned myself to being a morning person, now. A quick breakfast of granola'd yogurt and toast took another ten minutes, then I spent twenty working different muscle groups with the weights downstairs, took ten minutes to throw myself together into my morning gear, and was out the door.

Seven Fucking Thirty.

I missed sleeping in.

Still, it gave me an hour to get to school every morning, which I used to run the distance with time for a shower. So what if I was a little quicker than a normal person? Just made my jog look like actual running, right? I hadn't really thought about it until I noticed a pair of girls a block back apparently trying to keep pace with me. I could tell they were both feeling it, the curvier one puffing a bit as she hung back behind her friend.

This was weird, but not too strange. I made a couple turns to change streets without going out of my way. To my surprise, a couple blocks later the pair made the switch over, too. This was starting to get kind of creepy.

The next time I turned to change up the streets, I took a glance at the pair. An athletic black girl in bike shorts and a sports bra, her hair up in a bun to keep sweat off her neck, and a redhead with her hair braided up, a short, thin, open top and a miniskirt over the same sort of getup her friend had. She looked like someone trying to be fashionable even when working up a sweat.

If I didn't know better, I'd think it were Emma and So-

I stopped, my eyes wide ahead of me as I stood just past the corner turn. My eyes panned over to the pair, having a clear line of sight over the yard I'd almost finished passing.

Their hair was done up in styles I'd never seen them wear before, and their faces were different. Done up in thick makeup to change the shapes a little while still looking natural. Still though, now that I was looking, I could see the similarities. These two were definitely Emma and Sophia. The pair slowed their own jog to a walk while I watched them, trying to present a confused air, while I could tell they were subtly tensing for a fight as they slowly closed the distance.

Yeah, no. Fuck this.

I turned and ran.

It was actually kind of crazy, how fast I could go when I really cut loose. I was rounding the next block three seconds after I started my sprint, watching the pair just getting up to speed when I made the turn. Now I was on the next street over, line of sight broken, dashing down three blocks in the time it took them to make one. I was showing off some pretty obviously-cape speed right now though, and needed to stop.

I checked the houses on this block. All of the yards were empty of people, but a lot of them had no fence, or chain fences. The option on the other side of the street had someone puttering in a kitchen near the window overlooking the yard, so I couldn't hide back there. I certainly wasn't jumping up onto any of the houses... so I cut through the yard to my side, leapt the wooden fence there, rolled my way back upright, and dashed behind a shed. There was a bush blocking sight to the fence, and the shed blocked sight to the house. I took a breath to calm my beating heart, rather than sate any real need for air. I'd just sprinted almost four blocks, and barely felt winded.

The two came down the street minutes later. If I had to guess, they knew I was making for Arcadia, and didn't want to break off my route... kind of silly in hindsight, who cares if I'm late for class if it means dodging these two?

Sophia was looking around, and stopped when they got to the yard I'd crossed. She knelt by the ground, hand tracing what I realized was a deep footprint in the damp soil and grass. Was she... tracking me? She followed the trail, tracks set with my wide, sprinting gait, before she came to the fence itself. She inspected it for a minute or so, checked the tracks again, and said something to Emma, who'd been standing around watching.

I wasn't quite skilled enough with air yet to pull their quiet voices to myself, so I waited. It couldn't have been more than a minute or two, before they turned to leave. I heaved out a sigh of relief, and used wind to boost myself up over the other side of the fence. I went a couple more streets over, away from the pair slowly trudging their way away. When I was confident they couldn't see me, I started jogging again.

I still had to make it in time for a shower, after all.

When I got out of the shower, I had a text waiting for me, from Amy. She wanted to meet up before class, and I was fine with that. I shot off a reply saying I was already there, and she asked to meet in one of the second floor rooms I didn't have a class in, but it wasn't hard to find. She was alone when I got there, but that was probably the point.

"Hey." I said, the picture of eloquence.

"Hey, yourself." She muttered, her voice a little rough.

We sat there, basking in our teenage awkwardness, until I broke it. "You... wanted to talk?"

"Yeah." Her voice was stronger, now. She rummaged in her bag, and brought out a wrapped bundle. "You... I got these for you, over the weekend. Was going to give them to you yesterday, but..." She shrugged.

Yeah, yesterday was kind of a mess.

I came over and took the bundle, unwrapping it slightly to find it contained half a dozen ceramic masks. They were featureless, save for the eye holes, and came in an assortment of colors. That didn't matter, since I was just going to repaint them anyway, but I turned over the top one- Eidolon green- and found some minimal face-shaped padding to keep it from pressing too hard on the nose, with some loops in them for clips or straps.

I wrapped them back up, and held them to my chest. "Thank you." I said, trying to pour my gratitude into the words. "Are you sure you don't want me to pay you back?"

Amy shrugged. "Not like I didn't get them at 'Panacea Discount' anyway." She said ruefully, and continued when I just gave her a confused look. "The more famous you get, the less often people will actually let you pay for the things you want to buy. It's only about fifty times as annoying as it sounds when you first hear about it." She huffed. "The best example of it are famous actors who don't even bother carrying money, because they know they'll get recognized, and their fans will pay for everything." She took in a deep breath, and I could tell she was getting worked up. "Like, there was this one time I was in a cafe on the boardwalk, just dodging the people, when Assault walks in off his patrol, orders coffee for him and Battery, then they just hand it over, and he leaves." She threw her hands up. "I don't know if it was a regular thing, if he knew that barista, or if he's just that much of an asshole," which she followed with a darkly muttered 'because he is kind of an asshole,' before she continued; "but that's the sort of thing I'm talking about. Fame entitlement." She sighed. "I hate it."

The early bell chimed, telling us we had fifteen minutes before classes started. Probably seven or so before students would start showing up early to class and kill the current privacy we had.

"It's like, this whole thing with Carol." She shook her head. "Context, Amy... So, New Wave isn't filthy rich, but we're not bad off. I've got a credit card with a couple hundred dollar limit that Carol pays off every month for my 'allowance', but I think she did it that way just to keep an eye on me. 'You didn't buy food all week, Amy! You're not making people pay for you again, are you?'" She mocked in what I assumed was her mother's voice. "'You have to be more considerate, Amy!' 'You have to contribute to the economy, Amy!' 'You can't take advantage of your status, Amy!'" She grumbled to herself before muttering something unpleasant-sounding.

"You okay?" I asked, since she seemed done.

Amy rubbed at her eyes. "Yeah, just... sorry, didn't mean to ramble at you."

I smiled. "Nah, go ahead and vent. I'm happy to listen, if it helps." That was a thing friends did, right? "Did you want to do something after school?"

She shook her head. "Can't. Tuesday/Thursday hospital trip, remember?"

"Ahh, crap." I was excited to patch things up, and it slipped my mind. "Maybe Wednesday, then..."

She gave me a look. "You don't have plans with... Cass?"

I swallowed the sigh at her tone, before it could get out. "I wanted to ask you, first."

That got a little smile out of her, at least. "Well, there's always Vicky, if you're bored. She hates hanging around the hospital waiting for me, but she's been weird and hover-y since we all tried going out..." She said, in a leading way.

I had wanted to give her another chance, sometime soon. That it helped Amy out a bit was a plus. "I've got an appointment later today, I knew you'd be okay with leaving things off, but what about her?"

Amy shrugged. "Vicky's never trying to be mean, but she can forget things when she's worked up. If you just tell her you need to go when you need to go, she's more likely to offer to fly you over than get mad about cutting things short."

Well, that sounded fine. "I can talk to her at lunch, then?"

She grabbed up her bag. "I'll be there." She looked like she might be coming in for a brief hug, but hesitated and headed for the door.

The first half of school went fine, aside from some mild awkwardness with Kyle. I thankfully made my way to lunch without running into anyone else who'd asked me out yesterday.

I was waved over by Vicky and Amy, but they weren't the loudest ones, once the rest of the group noticed me.

"Taylor!" Kara waved- excitedly flailed in her seat, more like- and called out. "Did you think about the things?"

"What things?" I asked, mirrored by the dyed redhead sitting next to her.

"My things." Kara said to her friend, being intentionally obtuse in a rather obvious way.

Her 'friend' panned her gaze down Kara's body and remarked, "You do have very nice things..."

Amy cleared her throat and made a show of grabbing out her spritz bottle.

Everyone ignored Vicky giggling like am old lech, probably thinking everything hilarious.

I was reconsidering my decision to come here for lunch, today.

Kara smiled and turned back to me. Watching. Waiting.

I gulped. "Well, it... sounded fine? I just... Kinda' want to know what I'm getting into?"

Someone muttered out 'That's what he said' loud enough that the crowd was set a-tittering, and my face went nuclear.

Amy let out a loud noise and brandished her weapon.

The crowd went back to their own quiet conversations.

Kara gestured to a seat near Amy, which I now assumed had been saved for me, and I made my way over. "It doesn't have to be a big thing," she started. "Or happen at all, no pressure. Just thought it would be cool."

She was smiling widely, her eyes twinkling. She looked like an innocent little angel, begging for another cookie after dinner.

Ahh, there's the little voice in the back of my head, screaming that she's just trying to use me.

I'm not sure I missed you.

"Well, this week's pretty full, but I can stay after school Friday, as a trial run?" I wasn't actually sure I was busy most of the week, but I had plans today, needed to make plans with Amy and Vicky, wanted to keep some days free for Dinah just in case...Actually yeah, that did sound pretty full.

"Yay!" She actually bounced in her seat, she threw her arms up so hard. Or did she fake that? Her exuberance was certainly genuine... "I'll get everyone together, and everything sorted out. You don't have to worry 'bout a thing, boss!"

"Boss?" I asked, along with a quarter of the table.

"I'm buttering you up." She stage whispered. Continuing in a normal tone, she added, "I could use something else, if you'd like some more effective lubrication~"

Watching her sputter as Amy spritzed her in the face was magical.

After basking in it for a moment, I turned to Amy, as dour and stern as I'd ever seen her, and asked; "She always like this?"

"Nah," the healer grumbled. "I think she likes you."

"That's..." Terrifying? "...wonderful." I groused.

Kara finished wiping off her face soon after that, and I realized she either used minimal makeup, or went without. I didn't see a single smudge or blemish, aside from some pink where she'd scrubbed a little harder with the napkins. "Friday, after school! It's a date!" Her mood didn't seem the least bit stifled by her waterlogging, as she grabbed what was left of her food and made to leave. Probably to go discuss things with these 'other girls' she mentioned.

Time to break the ice, to ask about doing something today. "So, how was your date, yesterday?" I asked Vicky.

Her smile got a little strained. "It went... okay."

Amy scoffed. "She nearly broke up with him, again."

Vicky's eyes drifted over to where Dean was sitting, with a couple of his band friends having their table invaded by the next table over, their charge led by a ginger boy attempting to claim their french fries as part of his Irish heritage.

...I think.

It was pretty chaotic, and I hadn't been giving it too much attention until now.

Everyone was either laughing, watching gleefully, or wearily exasperated over it... so I guess everyone was having fun?

"Don't wanna talk about it, right now." Vicky said evntually.

"That's fine." An opening! "I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out after school for a few hours, anyway?"

Her face blossomed into a radiant smile, her eyes sparkling, rosy cheeks pulling back, perfect buffy lips pulling back from shining teeth. Her skin glistened and hair glowed in the light as-

-Amy poked her in the side, and everything went back to drab and dull normal.

Well, that was weird. I knew something was going on, but I was so fixated on Vicky that I just didn't care. I'd need to watch out for that, in the future.

"Really?" Vicky asked after she'd reigned herself in, in more ways than one.

"Sure. What sounds good?"

She made a show of thinking. "Well, you don't like shopping, right? We could just hit up a movie or something, while I'm killing time waiting on Ames."

How long had it been, since I'd been to the movies? "Y'know, that sounds pretty good."

"Meet you after class?"

"Out the main gate, sure."

Amy smiled a little, but she felt sad. I wasn't sure what to make of it. The rest of lunch was spent listening to others talk about how their big days had gone, yesterday.

I found Amy and Vicky out front after school, the pair looked like they were arguing a little. "What's wrong?" I asked as I jogged up.

"Vicky's hovering, again." Amy said, not quite snapping.

Her sister actually glanced down to make sure her feet were on the ground. It was kinda' cute. "Am not!" She said, when she realized what Amy'd actually meant. "I just want to make sure you're safe."

"The buses are safe." As safe as anything got in Brockton, anyway. "I'll be fine."

Vicky's eyes twitched between us a couple times, before settling on me. The world started closing in and getting hazy, again. "Taylor, what do you think?"

I wanted to agree with Vicky, wonderful amazing Vicky, but... "I... don't know what the problem is?" They both looked confused. "With... either situation?"

"Vicky..." Amy hissed, and the haze faded. Vicky looked sheepish. "Vicky can't carry two people. Princess carry takes two arms, so does piggyback, and dangling people is just asking for someone to dislocate something."

Vicky looked about ready to start again, so I cut in. "I'm stronger than I look." Amy's attention snapped to me, and she hesitated. "Plus, if something happens to me, Amy can just fix it, right?"

They both looked thoughtful, Amy I knew was probably considering my powers, while I could only guess at Vicky's thoughts. "Are you sure?" She asked, actually hovering a bit in her worry.

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

Amy snorted, and we both looked at her. "Probably could've dropped me off and came back here by now, if we hadn't started arguing over it."

That got her sister smiling again, at least. "C'mere." She floated over to hover low in front of Amy, who rolled her eyes and clambered on and wrapped her arms around her sister's neck and shoulders. Vicky hiked a hand up to grip Amy's thigh, and floated up and over to me, holding out the other. "You ready?"

I gave a smile, a nervous giggle, and nodded. I grabbed her hand, and she shook mine away, grabbing my wrist instead. I returned the gesture, grabbing her forearm with both of my hands as we slowly lifted up. Her grip was like a vice around my wrist, nearly creaking the bones. I could feel how nervous she was trying this, so I wasn't sure if she just didn't know her strength, or if her worry was making her try a little too hard. It wouldn't be anything more than a bruise at this rate, though. Nothing I couldn't heal myself, even without Amy's help.

"Alright, let's go." Vicky said, slowly accelerating us up and over, to just miss the fencing around the school, but we mostly kept horizontal after that. We stayed low, missing the rooftops by half a meter as they zipped by beneath us, only gaining altitude to pass over the buildings as they got taller the closer we got to the hospital. If I had to guess, the trip to drop Amy off only took about five minutes. It would've been at least twenty by car or half an hour by bus, but that was the advantage of a straight line without lights.

We set down on the roof of Brockton General, and I rubbed my wrist off to the side while Vicky fussed over Amy. "Well, this is my stop." Amy said, digging out her keys. "I'll see you tomorrow?" I nodded and waved, and she headed over to the roof entrance and unlocked it. It seemed a little weird to me that she had the keys for the place, but thinking about it, she probably only had the roof key.

"So..." Vicky started, awkwardly. "Movie?"

"Sure. We're both just killing a little time, right?" I asked, trying to spark conversation.

She shrugged. "I've got enough homework to keep me busy for a few hours, I always save it up for these days, but I usually run out and get stuck bored for a while."

I chuckled. "No offense, but you don't seem like the type that can sit still for long."

"Weeell.." She smiled and shook her head. "Not really. If I run out of things to do, I'll fly around, maybe patrol a bit, or get Dean to..." She drifted off, her smile drooping.

"You okay?"

She grinned wanly and gave a so-so hand shake. "Things have been... awkward? Not really bad, just... not good again, yet." She waited a moment, took a deep breath, and sighed it out. "I've been acting odd lately, and he was asking about that, then asking about-" She nearly choked on her words, the abortive hesitation was so strong. "-other girls. Which you don't do on a date, let alone Valentine's!" She'd worked herself up a bit, by the end. I felt the haze creeping in, before she clamped down on it and it faded. "The date was... just really awkward after that."

"I... think I get why, but I've never been in a relationship."

"Really?" She thought for a second, then broke into a grin. "Do you want me to..."

I broke in before she could finish her leading question. "No. I'm not looking to date right now. I'm perfectly happy..." I huffed, unsatisfied with the wording. "not happy, really, just... I don't think I can handle it, right now." Vicky had this wide-eyed worried curiosity to her features, combined with a worried head tilt that made her look adorable. I groaned. "I'm still getting used to not needing to worry about being ambushed if I let my guard down long enough to sit so I can eat, at school."

"Ahh." She had a look of mildly horrified realization, now. "I'm sorry I asked."

It was weird, dealing with someone whose heart was so firmly planted on their sleeves as Victoria. I don't think I'd have any trouble reading her, even without my extra senses. "No, it's fine. I'm more frustrated with myself, than anything."

"Right." She said with a sharp nod. "Topic change. Movie? You have a place you like?"

I was confused, before I remembered there were like three movie theaters in Brockton. "Oh, I haven't been to the movies in years. Whatever you like's fine."

She grinned. "Well, there's two places nearby," we were practically on the Boardwalk, after all. "The one with tables and restaurant-style food is kind of expensive, though. So the other one?"

I goggled a bit. "That's a thing?" It must have been recent, I didn't remember Emma ever mentioning that sort of thing.

Vicky shrugged. "It's okay, the food's pretty average, and terrible for the price, but the experience is worth it if you find the right movie."

I shook my head and smiled. It sounded ridiculous. "Yeah, the other one."

"Alrighty, then." She unceremoniously scooped me up, backpack and all, into a bridal carry. We were already off over another building by the time she started up again. "You're a little heavier than I expected."

I grabbed at my stomach, where the dreaded paunch used to sit, and whined. "But I work out?"

She giggled. "I didn't mean to call you fat, just surprised is all."

The building we eventually came to was fairly squat, compared to those nearby, but still looked to be around three stories tall. It was bracketed by stores and office buildings, with apartments further out. Its own little almost-mall just offset from the Boardwalk proper.

We set down amidst a moderate crowd, and it was only when I'd gotten my feet under me that I realized quite a few of them had their phones out and pointed at us. I glanced around, and started shrinking into myself as the crowd started to swarm Vicky.

Well, I say 'swarm', but only about half the crowd seemed interested at all. The press of bodies was still making me anxious, though. I skittered over to the theater while Vicky handled the people. She answered questions, signed some things, posed for the odd picture, generally exuberant through it all.

It was exhausting, just watching it.

They left me alone, but I'm pretty sure a couple people snapped photos of me with their phones. I had no clue why, but people weren't my forte. Ten minutes in saw Vicky apologetically extricate herself from the crowd, even going so far as to float up above them to make her way over to me.

"C'mon, let's go." She chirped as she bundled me through the doors. I didn't even really see the posters up for the various movies, along the walls outside and the short hallway into the lobby. We went up to the counter, off to the side away from the line, and she pointed up to the current listings on the wall behind the beleaguered BBU-student-aged teenagers working the tills. "What looks good?"

"What even is there?" I shot back.

"Well," She turned back and floated up a little, ostensibly to get a better view, but I was betting she'd done it out of habit. "The rom-com would be a little weird, but there's a horror/mystery-" the imagery and tagline for the poster seemed to indicate it was a noir detective story about catching a Stranger cape. "-a couple action movies-" one of them was about a robot Tinker, and seemed marketed on explosions, the other was an Aleph import 'cops and gangs' flick, centered on the grizzled gunslinger detective on the poster. It made me wonder if they ever showed the gang-centered films popular over on Aleph, what with the situation in Brockton. The last thing we needed were films that tried to romanticize the gang life. "-couple feel-good flicks-" Another aleph import about... animals? I guess? Boy-And-His-Dog story shaking it up with a girl main character, if I had to guess. The other was the 'real story' of a west-coast PRT agent putting his life back together after a cape fight took his legs. I'd actually seen commercials for this one, and my suspension of disbelief was shot to hell with the love interest being a prosthetics Tinker. "-aaand the kids movies." Of which two looked to be for the tween audience, and a family film about cape family shenanigans.

"Probably the aleph cop movie." I said with a nod. "The others all look stupid or offensive."

"I know, right?" She grinned. "I'll get the tickets, you save us a spot in the concessions line."

There were two tills each for tickets and concessions, but with all the filling bags and grabbing product, the food line was moving about half the speed of the ticket line, despite having about the same number of people waiting. I 'watched' as a boy- probably a cape geek from the gushing- let Vicky cut in about halfway up the ticket line. I shook my head, a little amused at the antics. It made me think back to what Amy'd said this morning. Some people just didn't mind flaunting what they had, I guess.

I was only a little jealous. Being famous would get old way too quick.

I'd only made it a third of the way to the counter when Vicky came up and handed me a ticket.

"You usually get much food at movies?" She asked to break the silence.

"Not really. Popcorn's fine, but I wouldn't get my own bag to myself." I'd usually get candy, Emma would get popcorn, and we'd share.

"Sure, sure." She waited, fidgeted a bit, shuffled around, and eventually just grabbed her phone for something to do. We were almost to the counter when she said, "Hey look!" and showed me her phone. "You're internet famous!"

My stomach dropped out and threw a fit as my breath hitched. I leaned over and recognized PHO, she'd expanded a few image links, and flicked over to them. One showed the three of us at school, another of us flying, and another of us just outside this building. She closed them out and went back to the thread, which she scrolled through a little, but I wasn't seeing the words.

I was busy freaking out.

"You okay?" She asked when she finally noticed I was hyperventilating.

"Fine. I'm fine." I said, too quickly.

"Tay, if it's-"

"Look, we're here!" I said, and sure enough the last customers in front of us departed, goods in hand, and we were at the counter.

Vicky got herself a soda, a big bucket of popcorn for the both of us, and a box of caramel something-or-others. She finally dropped getting me something, the third time I said I was fine. I still wound up holding the popcorn, though.

When we'd found seats, I couldn't escape the question anymore. "You okay? With the attention, I mean."

I sighed. "Yeah, sort of. I'm just... not used to anything but negative attention. I need to get used to this sort of stuff." Though I really wasn't looking forward to it. "I'm not going to stop being Amy's friend, and it was stupid of me not to think this would be a thing. I'm probably already up on whatever thread she has-" Vicky made an 'erm, yeah.' head motion, and I stifled a groan. "-being your friend too isn't going to really change much there."

We sat in silence for a while, watching the silent ads popping up on the screen.

"You think we can be friends?" Vicky asked.

I chuffed out a small exasperated sigh, and smiled at her. "Yeah, that's fine."

She seemed far too excited for such a simple thing, I thought.

The movie was fine. Not great, but not a terrible way to waste a couple hours. Vicky tried to argue me into letting her fly me to my 'appointment', but I worked her down to just taking me to the bus stop that'd get me where I was going. It just seemed to worry her, though. I promised I'd be fine and she nervously took me at my word.

It's not like I was going to the slums. The buses didn't even run there.

I was getting on the one that came closest to going there, though.

The address I'd been given was for a building in the 'Little Japantown' area of the city, which made up most of the disputed borders between the PRT and law enforcement keeping the Boardwalk clean, and the ABB's southern holdings. It was also the barrier between the downtown slums and 'civilization'.

It wasn't like it even had the shops and cultural identity to make it a proper Chinatown, it just tended to be where the Asian immigrants wound up. It was way cheaper than the Towers area, and not everyone could afford a house in the suburbs where I lived. People congregated here because it was better than the slums.

The building itself didn't look fantastic, but it wasn't condemned at a glance. The brief look with my senses indicated it was stable and surprisingly well-cared for, internally. The rest of the buildings around also looked to be apartments or tenement buildings, with the odd first floor converted into a shop or corner store, for people trying to make a living without the commute.

The door was locked, and had one of those intercom panels on the wall. It was full of numbers instead of names though, so I just hit the big button next to the little ones, and it gave a grating mechanical buzz. A few moments later, I heard it click and a woman, younger than I expected, said something in an Asian language.

"Um, hi? I'm Taylor, here to see Sue?"

I don't know why, but I got the feeling of being judged as the silence wore on.

The woman sighed, and said "Wait a bit." And the line clicked dead.

I watched as a woman came out of one of the lower rooms, checked the monitor above the door, and then the peephole. I could hear it as she unlatched several locks, and opened the door just enough to show her face. She was a short-haired twenty-something, shorter than me by less than most Asian women I'd met, she was thin and her face slightly gaunt. She had a few beauty marks scattered on her visible skin, and seemed overall fairly average looking. This didn't keep me from noting her hidden hand reaching behind her, softly gripping the hefty pistol holstered in the small of her back.

"What are you here for?" She asked, giving me a little bit of a glare as my eyes flicked down to where I knew she kept her gun.

"I... was invited over?" Her glare didn't waver. "For tea. I wasn't told what else."

We stayed like that for another moment, before a voice I recognized cut in.

"Hey, hey Minnie!" Jake called, hobbling down the hall behind her. "Don't worry, she's with me."

The woman's glare didn't lessen, though now it was a burden shared, her eyes flicking between us as she stood mostly behind the door. At least her hand wasn't on the gun, anymore. She snapped out more sharp syllables I didn't understand, and he chuckled, responding in kind. She said something else, and his smile grew strained as he replied.

She sighed, shook her head, and opened the door fully. She said something else, more softly this time, and went back to her own apartment.

"Sorry about her, she's... kind of intense." Jake said, ushering me in and redoing the locks. "Thought she was working today..." he muttered. "Anyway, Sue's on the third floor." The place looked to be about five floors from the outside- about as tall as buildings got outside the Towers and the buildings near Medhall. He led me down the hallway, past a turn which led to a nook for an elevator, and the stairs just past it. He tapped the button for the lift, which quietly dinged open immediately.

Awkward elevator silence prevailed until we hit the third floor, walking down the hallway to the second door past the turn, and Jake let himself in without knocking. "Got Taylor!" He said as I followed him in.

The place was cozy, and fairly busy. There was a couch off to the side, with a coffee table and a TV set up, the area lined with shelves full of books and trinkets. There was a decently sized kitchen table filling most of the rest of the space, six chairs around it with one side against the wall. There was a bathroom door to the side way from the TV nook, and a short hallway with a closed door on one side, and an open doorway leading to a kitchen area on the other. I quirked an eyebrow at the pizza boxes sitting on the table.

"Really?" I asked.

"Hey, teenagers like pizza. Figured it was a safe bet. It got here just before you did." He replied.

Sue came in from the kitchen, rolling her eyes and rubbing a dish towel over her hands. "Didn't want me cooking." She groused. "Got tea started, but now- most important..." She headed over to the closed door and opened it. Immediately a pair of blurs scurried out. One of them froze, the beautiful white cat staring at Taylor, before running back into the room. Sue chuckled. "That's Moon." She reached down to pat the big orange tabby chomping away at the food dish in the hall. "This is Sun." She headed into the room, coming out moments later carrying a mottled grey and black striped cat under his 'shoulders'. The poor thing meweled disapprovingly as his master smiled. "This one is MurderFinger." She held her grin for a couple seconds, before dropping the cat next to the dishes, where it started eating, too. She started turning for the kitchen, and muttered, "Couldn't not be, after he ate that bastard Qin-Xiao's finger."

What.

I turned, wide-eyed, to Jake. "Don't let her mess with you." He said, sitting down. "His name's Star."

"And he didn't actually eat any fingers?" I asked nervously.

"No." Jake lied.

Seriously, the fuck?

Sue came back, and set down a tray with a steaming teapot, some cups, and plates. She sat, and I felt weird being the only person standing, so I sat down, too. She filled the cups, and the silence dragged on a bit. "So...?" I hedged.

She grabbed at one of the boxes and started inspecting the contents. "You're a cape." I visibly tensed, and she chuckled. "Just thought you should know we knew." She grabbed a couple slices for a plate and set the box back. "There are others out there that wouldn't be nearly as polite about it. Mostly the gangs, but none of them know, as far as we can tell."

"That's... good?" I asked, and they shrugged.

"Cape politics aren't really our thing." Sue admitted. "But I'm guessing Danny knows," She waited for me to nod, "which means you're not a Ward. No talk of a new one anywhere, yet."

"Being independent is dangerous, though." Jake said, fiddling with his plate rather than eating. "I hope you're not out bashing heads?" I shook my head. "Good. That's smarter than a lot of newbies."

My mind was running a mile a minute. They didn't seem to be acting hostile at all. They just seemed... a little worried? "I can... trust you, right?" They looked at me oddly. "You're not going to sell me out, or anything?"

"What? No." Jake replied, and seemed honest.

Sue's look was more calculating, but I think she was wondering why I asked, rather than debating how to answer. "No, Taylor. We're not planning on using this information against you." She also seemed sincere, which was a load off my mind. She smirked a little as I visibly relaxed.

"So, why did you want to talk?" I asked, now honestly curious.

Sue shrugged. "We deal in information. Not buying and selling it, but using it to keep each other safe. Sometimes we turn in tips to the police or PRT, but mostly we stay a step ahead of gang movements, make sure to be off the streets when they're planning something, help the people who can get out to do so..." She sounded sad. "We do what we can."

We sat in morose silence for a bit. "And... you want my help?"

She laughed. "Oh, gods no. If the gangs caught wind of it, that'd ruin everything. Our building would get burned down, and everything's fire." She smiled and shook her head wistfully. "What we want is very simple." Her smile turned to a grin. "Get out."

"...what?"

She shrugged. "There are places that need new heroes more. Places that can actually hold back their gangs, keep their cities safe. Brockton's a powder keg at the best of times, what do you think happens if you take down one of the gangs?" I knew it was a trick question, and glancing over to Jake, who'd finally started eating, didn't help. "The other gangs fight over the territory and resources. The heroes couldn't take down any one of the gangs. Lung is too strong, the empire too connected, the merchants too distributed. Even if they did manage to take down all of them, what happens? New gangs pop up, or other gangs come in, or the fucking Butcher comes back." She spat the last part. "No matter what happens, the people lose."

I sat there, thinking about it. It didn't feel right. "I... don't think I can believe that." She raised a brow. "I mean, short term things would be bad, but after that? If we could keep the city and hold it, things could get better." I said, trying hard to believe every word of it.

Her eyes softened. "That's a nice dream, dear." She waited a beat, taking a breath. "The PRT can't hold the city. New Wave won't hold territory the same way the gangs do. It would take too much money and manpower, things being spent elsewhere, to fix the bay."

"I have to try."

She stared at me, and eventually sighed. "Always the idealists." She muttered, causing Jake to snicker around his food. She glared at him before turning back to me. "Alright, what do you think you can do?"

"Like, what are my powers?"

She shook her head. "About the city."

I hadn't given it much thought, I was still busy making sure I was trained enough to survive whatever plans I came up with, but... "I'm making a team." I said, then continued more firmly. "I'm forming my own team, and we can hold the city."

"Can you?" She asked snidely.

I heaved in a breath to argue, but held it. I let it out and shook my head. "We'll have to."

She stared, then sighed, took a deep breath and muttered something in another language up toward the sky. Whatever it was, it had Jake snickering again. "Eat your fucking pizza." She muttered, without any real heat to it.

I decided it was about time to actually start eating, and dug into the boxes. We ate quietly for a few minutes before she broke the silence again. "I'll need to talk to the others. I'm not sure what we can do, it's not just my risk to make, anymore." She took a long pull from her tea. "But, there's more of you young idealists around than I'd like. You're like weeds, these days."

I glanced at Jake, who grinned and waggled his eyebrows at me. I couldn't help but chuckle. "So...?" I asked.

"I'll call you in a few days. See what we can do. If you want us to help you, you might need to help us, though. Remember that." She paused for another drink. "You're some sort of thinker, yes?" I opened my mouth to answer, but she cut me off. "Be very careful who you share the details with, but... it can be used to gather information?"

I nodded, and she followed suit.

"That could be very useful. Help offset the risks..." She muttered. "Will need to plan. You need a ride home?" I shook my head, and she nudged my teacup. "Well, stay, eat. Have some tea. Leave the stressful thoughts for another day."

I spent almost an hour munching pizza and talking fighting with Jake, while Sue cut in now and then. I wound up petting a couple of curious cats, which was nice. Eventually I made my way home via the buses. Despite what Sue had said, I had a lot on my mind.

Where was I going to find more capes for this team I kept promising?


	15. wormavatartaylor2

Feb 5, 2020

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#53

WED FEB 16

My run to school took longer today, since I was watching for Emma and Sophia. I didn't spot anyone that might be them, but I was having trouble trusting myself. I had no idea how long they'd been stalking me. Sophia seemed to have some experience tracking things that didn't mesh into my understanding of the world. Even with Winslow's outlandish 'curriculum' it didn't make sense.

The fact that I knew the basics of picking locks and hotwiring cars through sheer osmosis was damning enough, there. It still didn't explain why Sophia was some sort of super-stalker, though.

I zoned out through the first half of the day, worrying about it. That lasted until I saw Tim on the way to lunch. He'd recognized me and waved awkwardly, and it took me a second to realize who he was. I put in the effort to actually go say hi, but we both had lunch to get to, so the interaction didn't last past that. It put him on my mind though, thinking back to Monday and what'd happened after school then.

Which led me to grabbing my food and heading over to where Cass was sitting. An older boy was talking about something- I think it had to do with Medhall, from what little I caught of it; something about business law and medical licenses. He trailed off when I'd gotten close, and the side of the table facing away from me realized and turned, including Cassie.

"Hey, could I talk to you for a bit?" I asked.

She very briefly looked conflicted, then confused, glancing around the table for a measure of approval, which I guess she got since she grabbed her food and stood up. "Sure, I've got some time."

We headed out, and sat down at the usual spot. She was eating slowly, waiting for me to get to what I wanted. It took me a bit of dithering, but I finally spat it out.

"I don't like the way you treat Tim."

She seemed surprised and confused, then she perked up like she realized what I was talking about. "You're still on that?" She gave a throaty groan. "I don't care and he knows it, what's the problem?"

"It just..." I tried to think of the words. "It reminds me of what happened to me, back in Winslow."

She cocked her head a little. "What, you get used by some fuckboi?"

"What?" I parsed that after a moment, and my cheeks gained a dusting of pink. "No, not that part... Not really." Goddamn, but this made me feel so uncomfortable. "No one cared."

She stared at me for five whole seconds. "Yeah." She stated firmly. A beat later she continued. "It's high school. People are shit, teenagers are worse. No one cares, and that's just the way things are."

I shook my head. "It wasn't just the students, it was the teachers, the staff, the police..." I trailed off. "No one listened, or cared, or did anything. They'd do things to me. Stupid pranks, sure- glue in my chair, steal my bag, shit it my hair..." I hissed that last part. I liked my hair, and I think Cass knew it. "But there was other stuff. They'd trip me, hit me, ruin my clothes and my books. I had evidence and no one did anything. They put me in the hospital and the police investigation hasn't gone anywhere. Like they can't even care to do their jobs."

Cass had backed away a little, but the look on her face was resigned, even dismissive. I needed to hit harder to get through, though I'm not sure why I cared so much. I'd worked myself up and now this was a fight, and I had to win. "That's..." She started, but I cut her off.

"Even the Empire kids didn't care that a white girl was, was that... was hospitalized by a black girl." I didn't want to acknowledge the Locker any more than I had to.

"Wait," She waved her hands in a 'stop' motion. "wait, the girl who did that was black?" I hated playing the race card with a bigot, but if anyone deserved it, it was Sophia. "And nobody did anything?"

I shook my head, turning away and looking down. Distraught, defeated. I felt her heart pick up, and her muscles tense. I held back the smile that would've ruined it.

I win.

"Somethin' fucky's up." She said, startling me out of my mood. I glanced back at her, confused.

"What?"

"Dudn't add up." She slurred. "Nobody doing anything? Not even the cops? Brockton's a shitheap, and I've heard things about Winslow, but..." She glanced back at me with narrowed eyes. "Even these supposed 'Empire' kids didn't care?" The quotes were in her tone more than anything, but I could tell they were there.

"No. It went on for a year and a half, getting worse and worse, but no one ever seemed to care."

I could see her turning it over in her head. "I need names." She muttered darkly.

"What?" Wait, what did she mean? "I can't... you can't do anything to them." I said weakly.

She muttered 'bullshit' under her breath, before she replied. "I'm not going to do anything. I just want to ask around, see if your story adds up." She smirked. "Nothin's coming back to you on this, promise."

I swallowed and wrung my hands a little, glancing around with my eyes even when I knew no one was around. Then I took a deep breath and sat up straighter. "You mean it? You're not going to do anything?"

She grinned. "I promise I'm not going to do anything." I tried very hard to ignore the emphasis in her voice.

With another deep breath, I nodded. "There were three girls, plus their gang of friends, but mostly those three. Emma Barnes, Sophia Hess, and Madison Clements."

"And the b-" she tried to cover her slip with a cough, but I caught it anyway. "The one who hospitalized you?"

No going back, now. "That was Hess."

"Interesting." She said, and I could see it in her eye, she was filing the information away. We stayed still for a few moments while she memorized the names. "And what do you want done about them?"

I sighed. "I don't care. I'd just be happy if they left me alone." Now to add more to the fire. "I don't even go to their school anymore, and I caught two of them stalking me yesterday morning."

Her eyes opened wide and her brows shot up. "Really?"

I nodded. "Sophia's on the track team, so I had to work pretty hard to get away from them." More because she'd been tracking me, but I had no idea how to pass that along without outing myself.

"Her again, huh?" Cassie muttered. "You sure they're stalking you?"

"Absolutely sure." I said seriously.

She hummed, and rubbed her face in one of those stereotypical 'thinking' motions. "Gonna need to ask around." She got up, taking her mostly empty tray with her. "See ya later."

As she walked away, I added "And lay off Tim a bit?"

She waved and said "Yeah, sure." distractedly. I'm pretty sure she'd stopped internalizing things by then, but that was fine. I could always ask about that again later.

I felt excitement churning in my belly. Maybe something was going to happen, now? I desperately ignored the part of myself that was worried I'd set a Nazi on a black girl, but it wasn't too hard to push the thoughts down to a manageable level, mostly drowned out by the good mood and catharsis from getting some of that off my chest.

Cass kept saying she wasn't a Nazi, after all.

The rest of the school day was fine. It got a little awkward when the girl who'd asked me out wanted to talk. Erika had heard I was running the martial arts thing Kara was drumming up people for, and wanted confirmation from the horse's mouth, as it were.

I told her that I was, in fact, doing the thing. She perked up out of her shyness just long enough to say she was excited about it, before she left.

I didn't see anyone I knew on my way out the door, not even Amy or Victoria, who I knew hung around a bit sometimes. I sent a quick text to Amy asking where she was, and headed to my planned outing for the day. It wasn't hard to look up art stores around Brockton, and find one that had a good balance of locations, both distance-from-school wise, and probable-price-tags wise.

When I got there, I checked my phone and found a message from Amy, saying she'd met Vicky at the college instead of Arcadia. A little confused, I asked what she meant. While I was browsing the paints, I stopped to read her longer than usual reply. Apparently Victoria was taking classes at the college in the afternoons, instead of high school courses. News to me, but I guess it explained why I never saw her in the halls after lunch. I asked if Amy wanted to hang out later, and she said that'd be fine, after she was done waiting on Vicky's presentation.

All that done, I grabbed a half-decent selection of paints and brushes. A big tube of the green I thought matched the costume, plus a few browns, blues, whites. I could always say I was trying to get into landscape painting or something. Purchases made, I sent Amy another text, asking if she wanted to help paint 'the things' and hang out after, at my place. I got a short 'sure' back while I was catching the bus home.

Once there, I set my purchases by the kitchen table, ran upstairs to grab the masks, and brought them down. Then I dug out the bag full of old newspapers we kept around for firestarting and messes like this, and papered the table with them. Then I squeezed a good dollop of paint out of the green I wanted onto a double-folded square of paper, and started on one of the masks. The one I'd grabbed was an Eidolon light green, and it felt a little odd, brushing the darker tone over the slightly glossy finish. It honestly felt more like elementary school crafts class than anything else. I hadn't bothered with painting at camp, when there were options like archery and horse stuff.

Honestly, taking care of the horses had been more fun than riding them, in my opinion.

I was partway into the second mask when there was a knock at the door. I could feel two people outside the door, but hadn't noticed them approaching. Sure enough, it was Amy and Vicky I spied through the peephole.

"Hey." I said when I opened the door.

Amy returned my 'hey' and Vicky chimed in with "Hi, Taylor."

I gave the blonde a look. "So, college classes?"

Mine was an eyebrow to cow Brutes, apparently. She shuffled and gave a nervous chuckle. "I didn't tell you about that?" I tweaked the brow slightly higher, and Amy started giving her a similar look. "Okay, okay, I just..." She'd raised her hands in defense, then started scratching at her cheek. "I didn't want to sound like I was bragging, after we'd gotten off on the wrong foot in the first place."

I held the look for another moment before I dropped it with a sigh and a shrug. "So what kept you? Amy mentioned a presentation?"

She nodded. "Yeah, had presentations in cape studies, Monday and today, but a lot of them went over time last time, so I volunteered to be one of the students staying longer to give mine, so the people with classes to get to right after the normal time could head out."

"That happen often? How many classes do you have there?"

She shrugged. "Not often, usually have time to hang out a bit before I meet people after school at Arcadia. Just taking cape studies, math and physics. And a lit class Sundays, but I don't always make that one..." she trailed off into mumbles by the end. Skipping class for more social time, I bet.

"So what're you up to?" I didn't want to tell her to get lost, but she wasn't in on me being a cape, and I was really hoping she didn't want to stay and hang out with us.

Instead, she shrugged. "I was just going to stick around the campus library to work on an essay, until Amy said she needed a lift." I caught her sister blushing in the corner of my eye. "So I should maybe get back to that. TTYL?" She waved, which prompted us to give little waves of our own, before she floated up and sped off.

We were still waving awkwardly when she'd passed firmly out of earshot, several blocks over as a fading speck in the sky. "Did she just pronounce an initialism out loud?" I asked.

"Just because she's an extrovert doesn't mean she's not a huge dork." Amy clarified. "So, you wanted help painting?"

I waved her inside and followed after. "I don't need the help, so much as thinking it'd be fun to do together." I showed her the kitchen, all done up for painting. "Plus, we can do other stuff after."

The first thing she did after looking the room over was walk over to the sink, and draw the blinds over the window above it. She slowly screwed the little rod to shut them completely, while I felt my cheeks darkening in a blush. I didn't think about the window opening into the yard, which was enclosed in a fence, but Amy didn't have my foot-senses telling her the other yards were clear. In hindsight though, fliers like Vicky could bypass that pretty easily.

She turned back to find me fidgeting awkwardly. Her heartbeat sped up as she gave a small sigh, her lips twitching up into a smirk. "You doof." She muttered. I gave a little smile of my own, and she came over to the table. "You have any gloves?"

I blinked. Did we? The question made me look down at my own hands, which had a couple of smeared green smudges that further rubbing couldn't dislodge. I grumbled as Amy chuckled at my misfortune. "We've got some of those big rubber ones for toilet cleaning." I recalled out loud.

She shook her head. "Not really what I was after." She dug into her bag a bit, taking a minute or so to come away with a small baggie full of blue plastic. Taking a pair out of their bag, she slipped them on with quiet snaps as the stretchy material clung to her hands.

"Why do you even have those?" I asked, as I watched her replace the baggie.

Amy shrugged. "Just because I can't catch anything doesn't mean other people can't. The nurses got me into the habit of keeping some things around in my civvie gear, like some of them do, just in case."

I didn't mind that she hadn't offered me any. My hands were already marked up, after all. "That's neat. So, painting..." I motioned over to some brushes, one of which I'd been using, and the tube of paint. We both picked up a mask, me grabbing the one I'd already started on, and worked quietly for a bit. Then something I'd wanted to bring up came to mind. "So, I think... I'm going to be forming my own team."

Amy perked up as she looked at me, waiting for me to clarify.

"I don't want to join the Wards, and no offense, but I'd rather not out myself..." She gave a rueful nod. "So I think making my own team is the way to go. I've... sort of got one person lined up already." How much to say about Dinah? "But that's partly about keeping her safe, since she's young and doesn't want to join the Wards either." Amy looked thoughtful, now. "I just... have no idea how to go about recruiting more people."

"What about the indie capes?" She asked, pointing her brush vaguely southward. "I think a bunch of them are set up in the south end of town."

"Really?" I blinked owlishly in confusion. "I hadn't heard of any of them."

Amy shrugged. "They don't make the news. Small-time heroes guarding a couple blocks for a few months until the Nazis snatch them, or villains raiding houses instead of risking the boardwalk shops until the cops catch them, or people stuck in the slums until Lung steps on them..." She wiggled her hand in a so-so motion. "They tend to not last long. Marketing to the cape geek tourists says we've got something like a hundred capes in the city, but it's closer to sixty. We've got about twenty total in both the big gangs and the hero groups, and maybe that many indies, depending on the week. I don't think we've broken seventy since I've been a cape."

That was... actually a lot more than I thought we had. "How do you know all this?"

She shrugged and her heart sped up. "I'm plugged into the rumor mill, remember?" She was lying, had some sort of insider information, but I wasn't going to hold it against her.

"Do you know where any of them are? Like, specifically where?"

Amy shook her head. "Not really, no. I could keep an eye out, though?"

I nodded. "That'd be great, thanks."

We were quiet for the rest of the half hour it took to make sure all six were properly done, before we moved on to meditating. Apparently it'd been helping her mood quite a bit, since she was fairly excited (for her, anyway) to get started.

After a few hours on that, we went outside to practice martial arts to loosen up after all that sitting. Dad came home about half an hour after we started, and offered to call in food. We flipped a coin and decided on Chinese food again, getting some less-noodly options this time.

When the food got here, and everyone was at the table, dad cleared his throat. "Your grandmother is coming by next week, figured I'd remind you."

"Huh. Yeah, alright." I muttered. "We need to do anything more than set up the guest room?"

He scoffed. "She's probably going to stay at a hotel, knowing her. Might be best to clean up the room just in case, though."

Amy cut in. "Does she know about you being a cape?"

I shrugged. "I don't think so?"

Dad cleared his throat nervously. "She... might have some idea about that, yeah."

I couldn't help but gawk a little. "Really?"

"I was obtuse about it." He defended. "Didn't give any details, let her make her own conclusions. All she knows is that you might need help with things." He looked like he wanted to say more, but kept silent.

Groaning a little, I muttered, "At least it's just Gram."

"What could she help with?" Amy asked, curiously. "What does she do?"

With a shrug, I took a moment to think about it before I answered. "She runs one of those retail pharmacy chains. Y'know, the ones that try to be a drug store and a supermarket, but have to pick which one they get right?" I didn't really want to relay which one, I was still mildly embarrassed every time I wound up stopping in at one, I didn't want to extend that into my social circle. She seemed to get that I didn't want to talk about it, though.

"Yeah, I think I know what you mean." She slowly replied. "So, what? You think she can help with legal stuff? Money things?"

Dad shrugged and made a waffly, unsure noise. I could tell he was embarrassed and trying to hide it. "Yeah, pretty much."

I decided to bail him out. "She also does investments and things. Mostly medical research."

Amy made an acknowledging grunt. "So, what's she like?"

Dad groaned and rolled his hand, giving away his thoughts on the woman.

"She's always been nice to me, but... kinda' distant. Really controlling, mom didn't get along with her very well." I answered.

"They were too similar." Dad cut in. "Annette was the same way, always had to know what was going on, have some say in things, when she wasn't the one planning everything. The captain of her ship." He said, wistfully. "Rosalind always had to have her way. Had Annette's life planned out for her since before she was out of diapers. By the time teenage rebellion caught her, Anne'd had enough. Started bucking back, used University as an excuse to get away so she could run off with a bad crowd..." Yeah, maybe not telling Amy about mom's gang days, just yet... "Never reconnected. They started talking again after Taylor was born, but there was always this tension whenever they interacted." He shrugged, helplessly. "She's been good to Taylor, but she's not a nice woman."

I wanted to refute what he'd said, but I really couldn't. With a wince and a groan, I nodded. "Yeah, kinda."

Amy hummed. Then she perked up. "So wait," She pointed her fork at me. "You're like, some big pharma heiress?"

"No?" I couldn't keep the questioning whine out of my denial, and she pounced on it.

"You are!" She was smiling a big, wide grin. The sort with too many teeth. "How does that work? You don't act like a rich kid."

I sighed. "Estranged, remember? Probably have some cousin I don't know about who'll inherit everything."

Dad hummed, shook his head a little, and went back to his food.

Well, shit.

Amy didn't seem to catch it, though. "Sorry. Didn't want to dig up family trouble." I could feel the emphasis she put there. For all that New Wave put on a strong front, I'd picked up enough cues to know it was a front. I didn't want to pick at her family issues either, so I decided to drop it.

I asked some inane question about the English teacher's essay assignments, knowing Amy was a year ahead of me and would know which one I was talking about. It served to break attention away from the drama, and we got back to our meal.

When we'd finished eating, I grabbed a hoodie because it was getting a little chilly out, and we went back to training. Amy'd gotten some basic forms down, so I decided it was time to start evasion training. The big limitation to her power was the risk of being taken down before she could close range, after all. So, I pretended to have a gun, 'firing' rocks from the bunch in my hand, pretending to throw them to appease Amy's paranoia about me outing myself. We quickly decided that running towards someone with a gun was pretty stupid, and went back to dodging at range to find cover.

About half an hour after Amy was tired of that, because training isn't always fun, we cooled down with more Tai Chi forms. For want of something to talk about, I grasped at straws.

"So, you coming to the thing Friday?" I didn't stop moving to ask.

She stumbled a bit, and looked confused for a second. "Oh, that. I dunno, am I invited to your lesbian orgies, now?"

This time it was me stumbling, not to mention sputtering. "It's not like that!" I whined, trying to fight down a blush.

Amy shrugged. "Usually is, with her. And it's all her friends coming, soo..." she trailed off.

I huffed. "Not going to be like that. If they try to start something like that, I'll just leave."

She let out an exaggerated sigh. "I suppose if the poor maiden needs me to protect her virtue, I don't have any choice but to go."

I growled low in my throat, which just made her smirk harder. "Not like you're not a 'maiden' either." I grumbled.

"Yeah," She acknowledged with a shrug, putting her hands up in a 'why not' gesture and grinning. "Except I've actually got kinks. You're vanilla as fuck." She pondered for a second. "More than, really."

My blushing wound up getting worse. "I don't need kinks, and don't need to hear about yours!" I stomped my foot with another huff, not helping my image at all, but not really caring. It was just Amy, after all.

She stifled giggles at my reaction, then started chuckling. "Sure thing, vanilla bean."

"Don't call me that." I grumbled. I had no idea why she was blushing a little now, but I heaved out a sigh. "Well, I'm not in the mood to practice anymore. You calling Vicky for a ride again?"

Amy shrugged and grabbed her phone to text her sister, then we headed inside to wait. After a few minutes of awkwardly skimming mom's old books in the living room, she checked her phone again and groaned. "Nothing. Probably sucking Dean's face again." She stared at her phone for another few seconds and sighed. "I don't suppose I could get a ride?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, that should be fine. Lemme go ask dad." I headed up to dad's room, where he was working at his desk on something. I asked about a ride for Amy and he agreed, getting up and stretching with a groan before he followed me downstairs.

When we got down there, Amy rattled off an address, dad said he knew the area, and we all piled into the truck with me sitting in the middle. Our truck only had the one bench-seat style row, not anything fancy. I was mostly coming along because I was curious about the Dallon's place.

We were most of the way through the first song after Dad turned on the radio when we heard a series of crashes behind us. Dad swerved off the road in time to miss the flickering blur that raced past us.

All three of us muttered some manner of expletive over the event, and I pushed Amy and motioned for the door. She got out, and I hopped after her.

"Masks?" I asked, prompting her to start digging through her bag.

"Taylor?" Dad asked, hands still on the wheel, looking a bit shell-shocked as he watched us.

"I have to help." I said. He shook his head, and I pressed on. "I have to help eventually, I might as well start now."

First thing's first. Stop the truck. I could feel it, blocks away now. I dropped, my knee and fist hitting the ground prompting pillars of road to shoot up around and in front of the truck. I wasn't sure it would be enough to make them stop, but the driver slammed on the breaks and started skidding, coming to a stop well before they had to. As I rose, I thrust my fist up, cutting off their retreat with more pillars.

Amy handed me the entire partial pack of cheap masks she'd had in her bag. I grabbed one, pocketed the rest, and tossed her bag into the cab before Dad could argue, shutting the door behind it. Amy looked a tad perplexed by my actions as I put the mask on. Then I grabbed her in a bridal carry and started running.

It had nothing on Glory airlines, I was sure, but she still squealed briefly and clutched on tight as we took off. I made a beeline for a fenced in yard between here and the truck, leaping it with an air assist. By the time we made it there, the residents of the house were still slowly making their way out front to see what the ruckus was, so I knew we were safe for a bit.

Immediately, I shucked my shirt and hoodie, pulling the shirt out to tie it around my head like I'd seen in a diagram online. My masked eyes peered out of the neck-hole as I tied the arms behind my head. Amy was just getting over her surprise and shock then.

"You know it's probably bad if we're seen together, right?"

I raised a fist with one finger out. "You live just down the street." I raised a second. "Saving lives is more important." I dropped my hand and put my hoodie back on.

"I don't think it is." I glared at her, and we heard gunshots. Two of the men who'd gotten out of the truck to run dropped as we looked in that direction. "But you'd just drag me along anyway. Fine." she conceded.

It was a bit easier picking her up when she let me. I vaulted the wall with a gust of air, and started down the street at a wind-propelled sprint. we crossed the intervening blocks in seconds, and I was forced to use airbending to help slow our speed when we got there.

There were three capes here, two were inspecting the truck from a few feet away from it, one in red and black robes, and the other in a red catsuit. The third, a blond man in a black breastplate, was standing over the third and last man from the truck, who was on his front on the ground, hands over his head. His compatriots were groaning on the ground near the pillars to either side of the truck. One clutching his thigh, the other his stomach.

We all stared at each other for a moment, before the girls clustered together near one of the pillars, catsuit holding robe's left arm while her right scribbled something on the asphalt chunk at the top of the pillar, causing it to break free and float in front of them. The man turned towards us, but didn't move after that, gun still pointed at the man on the ground.

"Now this is interesting." He said.

I set Amy down, and she headed straight for gut-wound, the closer of the two injured men. "I'm going to need you to put the gun down." I said firmly.

"Really?" He asked with a chuckle. His features firmed into stoicism and he wiggled the gun slightly. "I don't think you're the one dictating terms, here. You leave, and we won't follow."

I glanced my eyes around. There was a huge slab of asphalt off to the side, which was probably how they got here, if the robed girl was Rune, like I thought. The man was almost certainly Victor, which made the other girl Othala. Situation assessed, I turned my eyes back to him.

Then I tapped my heel to the ground.

The girls shrieked as the ground fell from under them, landing them in a pit. A turn of my foot, grinding it against the asphalt saw the dirt in the pit constricting around them.

"Nope." His eyes were wide as he turned them from his compatriots back to me. "You put down the gun, then-" I let out a pained squawk as the floating piece of asphalt slammed into my face.

So Rune didn't need hand-motions to control things. This was valuable information.

By the time I'd shaken myself back to awareness and kipped up onto my feet, Rune had dug the girls out with trump-granted super-strength, and Victor had regrouped near them. Othala was standing with a hand each on the others' shoulders, and the large mass of asphalt they'd rode in on was hovering ominously nearby.

The gun was pointed at me, now.

"That was rather rude." Victor said, his voice surprisingly calm. "I will reiterate my original offer. Leave, or else."

Okay, so they weren't shooting me. That was good. "Why are you even here?" I asked.

"It should be obvious." He nodded towards the truck.

"It really isn't." I shot back.

"They were assaulting our territory, and we were punishing them for it."

The unwounded man on the ground snarled. "Didn't do nuthin' 'till they started-" he was cut off by a gunshot, and started screaming. By the time my attention was back on Victor, the gun was pointed at me again.

"Pretty sure that was rude." I growled.

We stood there at an impasse for almost half a minute. Victor was angry and stressed, but forcing himself to be more calm. Othala was anxious, but mostly had this weird giddy feeling. It was parts happiness, joy, excitement... I think she was a little turned on by the fighting, though that might have been working with Victor. I'd heard they were close, possibly even lovers or married. Rune was the odd duck out, her feelings not really centered on the fight at all. She was wary and anxious which I assumed were fight related, but her emotions were dominated by shock, confusion, and worry. The sort of compassionate fear one feels for others. That didn't seem right, but I was more worried about the fight. What to try next, how to dodge so that even if I was hit, I'd still be alive for Amy to fix me up, which of them I should prioritize... I was still cycling through possibilities when the world turned purple. Victor dove in front of Othala, a beam of purple energy splashing against him from above me. I turned and looked up, finding Lady Photon in her civilian clothes glaring thunderously at the trio through the shield she'd thrown up between us and them.

"I think we'll be leaving, now." Victor stated, motioning for Rune to bring the platform over. Othala kept her hands on the pair. I knew she needed touch for her power, but holding on like she was seemed significant in a way I couldn't quite understand.

"What makes you so sure of that?" Photon Mom asked, and from her tone I was pretty sure her hands were glowing.

The gun turned to point at Amy. "I can think of a couple reasons."

"You can't." She hissed.

Victor smirked. "I can shoot the wings off a fly, and the rules are a might fuzzy about kneecaps."

Everyone knew Amy couldn't heal herself. As far as they knew, an injury like that would put her in the hospital for months, and might cripple her for life. I wasn't sure I could heal that kind of damage.

Amy joined us in glaring, from where she'd been kneeling next to the leg-shot man, having finished stabilizing gut-shot.

"Fine." Sarah snarled out after a tense few seconds.

The trio took their time climbing on, going one at a time and making sure not to break their contact chain. Victor was last, gun pointed unerringly at Amy, even as they started floating away. By the time they were far enough that I'd doubt his ability to make the shot, they were high enough in the air that taking out their ride would almost certainly kill at least one of them.

There was a crack of air as Dauntless landed nearby like a lightning bolt. "Is everyone okay?" He asked after glancing around.

"Yeah." Amy answered, having gotten back to work.

"Victor, Rune, and Othala were here. They flew off that way." Lady Photon pointed.

He paused for a second. "Armsmaster's on the way now. We might be able to catch them." She nodded, and the two took off into the sky.

I heaved in a breath. "Well, that happened." I walked over to Amy. "Need help?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine." She said, tersely. "You just had to play hero." She added, a few seconds later.

"I can't not help."

After a moment, she sighed. "I know."

I started fixing the place up, after that. Pushing the pillars back down one at a time, filling in the hole I'd dumped the girls into. I was debating whether or not to try fixing the road surface when I heard the motorcycle approaching. By now people had stopped watching from their houses, and were standing nearby, but none had come close enough to try talking to us yet.

The blue chromed bike slowed to a stop just outside the street damage, offloading its matching rider. I'd dreamed of moments like this, meeting the heroes, him in particular. I took a deep breath and pushed the giddy excitement down. Nobody would appreciate the fangirling right now. Armsmaster observed the damage, then strode over. I was having trouble reading him through the alloys of his suit, and the suspension system in his greaves and boots.

"You're the geokinetic." He stated as fact. He gave me a once-over, then added, "Not much of a costume."

"Because it isn't one." I shot back.

He paused to process the statement, then gave a thoughtful hum. He turned to where Amy was fixing up the last guy. "Everyone is fine?"

"They will be." She answered, and he nodded.

Turning back to me, he said, "Not everyone would jump into a fight, plainclothes."

I shrugged. "Heroes gotta hero."

He chuffed and smirked. "You know we have a team for that."

I blushed a little, not that he could see it. I stifled the fidgeting as much as I could. "I know, but I can't."

The smirk faded a bit. "Are you sure you won't reconsider?"

I heaved in an unsteady breath. "Please, don't."

His face grew stony as he nodded. "Dauntless mentioned Empire capes. What happened?"

The vans full of PRT troopers showing up gave me time to think as I watched them file out and case the scene. Couldn't mention being with Amy when things kicked off, but I didn't have to veer too far from the truth. "Heard crashing, so I investigated. The truck," I indicated the vehicle in question. "Was invisible. I made pillars around it to make it stop, and it did. The capes came flying in, shot the guys..." why wouldn't they have shot me, in that scenario? "I don't think they knew I was here. So I jump out, tell them to stop, they tell me to leave, and we get into a bit of a standoff until Lady Photon showed up. Then they threatened..." Can't call her Amy. "Panacea with the gun, so we let them leave. Dauntless showed up and they flew off."

Armsmaster stared for a beat, then turned to look at Amy, though he was still addressing me. "And ms Dallon?"

I blinked, and shrugged. "I don't know when she showed up." Good, didn't make it sound like a question.

He stared for another beat, and I could imagine his eyes narrowing. Eventually he gave a brief nod. "I'll need a name for my report."

The first thing that came to mind after looking around and ruminating on it for a bit seemed fitting enough. "Terraform."

Armsmaster scowled. "Are you aware that name was used previously?"

"Was it?" Oh no. None of the other options that came to mind sounded anywhere near as good.

He nodded. "One of the tinkers who worked on Sphere's moonbase project. He was hunted down by Mannequin."

I stood in shocked silence for a few seconds. That wasn't great, but... "Was he a hero?" Armsmaster seemed to hesitate, but gave a small nod. "Then it's fine."

At first I thought he was going to argue, but a few moments later, he gave a brief sigh out his nose, and nodded. He glanced around, and asked, "Can you fix the road?"

"Oh, yeah," I perked up and observed the damage. "I was waiting a bit though, it's probably going to smell."

His head tilted slightly and I imagined his brow was quirked. I responded by flashing out a stream of fire along part of the line of former-pillars, then packed the gravel tight in the now-molten tar. Armsmaster had jumped back slightly when I started, and was eyeing me warily.

"Not just a geokinetic, then." It was a statement, but I could hear the request for clarification in his tone.

"Nope." I replied.

"...Grab bag?"

"I don't think so." I shook my head.

Another minute inclination of his head. "Then, what is your power, if you don't mind?"

I shrugged. "Classical elements."

He spent a few seconds processing this, before letting out a slightly impressed hum. He waved a hand to indicate the rest of the damage, said "Carry on." And turned to walk over and talk to Amy.

I squeed internally.

The giddy hop to my step as I turned to get back to work was entirely necessary. Even the rank stench of molten tar couldn't bring my mood down. Though it did stifle my smile a bit when I started tasting the stink after grinning to hard. When I finished, I waited off to the side. It didn't take long for Amy to be done, but instead of heading over to me, she took out her phone. Moments later I felt mine vibrate. I turned away, grabbed it, and noticed I had two texts. One from Amy telling me to meet her two streets over, and one from dad, telling me he was waiting for us at the Dallon's.

I couldn't help the feeling of impending dread as I jogged around a corner and hopped a fence. I did the next couple too, just to be safe, before I found one I was sure to be private. I fixed my shirt and hoodie before taking off the mask. Another hop, and I was off to find Amy.

She was standing around, irritably tapping a foot as she waited. She spotted me coming, and turned with a quirked brow, frowning disapprovingly.

"What?" I asked, causing the frown to intensify. "What'd I do?"

Her heart rate jumped, and she sighed, shaking her head. "Let's just go meet your dad."

"Oh, he sent a text saying he'd meet us there." She froze, turning wide eyes on me, before she cussed and started power-walking down the street.

The walk was quiet and tense as we skipped over another couple blocks and turned. I knew we were there when I recognized one of the cars when we were half a block from it. The house was fairly nice, but all of them were, compared to ours. Everything in the bay got nicer as you went south, at least until you hit Arcadia. Even then, aside from the Boardwalk and the mansions out west near Captain's Hill, the nicest parts of town were still further south, like the Towers and the area around Medhall.

Amy didn't slow as she stormed up the porch steps and opened the door. I followed her in to find Dad sitting on one of the couches, with presumably mr and mrs Dallon on the other. Dad heaved out a relieved sigh when he saw me, mr Dallon gave us a tired smile, and mrs Dallon turned judging eyes on the pair of us. I couldn't help but gulp under her scrutiny.

"Hey, dad." I managed, with a wave.

"You two," Carol snapped, "have some explaining to do."

Avatar Taylor (Worm Quest)

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#73

Dallon Home / WED FEB 16

"You two," Carol snapped, "have some explaining to do."

Her eyes were darting between us, but spent the most time focused on me. She was tense, her heartrate elevated, breathing slow and deep. The sort of reactions I'd expect from a trained combatant expecting a fight. That's when I realized she was focused on me, not just as a new stranger, but a potential threat.

I put my hands up around chest-height in a 'wait' gesture, but that just made her tense more without showing it. Right, capes. "I'm sorry," I said, dropping my hands as soon as I could make it seem natural. "it's my fault we're late."

Amy turned to look at me, surprised. Carol's eyes narrowed and locked on me.

"Erm..." I tried not to wither under the glare, but I was feeling hemmed in and trapped, again. "You probably heard from dad how we got run off the road, right?"

Carol tilted her head slightly in what could loosely be termed a nod. Her husband was much more emotive in his agreement. "We were on our way out to investigate the gunshots when we found mr Hebert in the driveway," He said, motioning towards dad with a small friendly smile. "and I invited him in. By the time we knew you might be in that fight, the shooting had stopped and the fight was probably over." The statement was punctuated with a small shrug.

"Yeah." Fights were over surprisingly quick, compared to how the media portrayed them. Unless you were dealing with an A-class or higher threat, this tended to hold true in cape fights, too. "We were there, but we're fine."

Carol's gaze twitched down slightly, and she rolled her eyes. "Fine, she says..." She muttered, before her eyes pierced into mine again. "And what about Amy? You might think you're fine because she can heal 'anything', but she can't heal dead." She was getting louder, slowly creeping to her feet as she went. "And what if something happened to her? She can't heal herself! Jumping into a gunfight is stupid enough, but dragging a noncombatant into one is unconscionable!" She took a huffing breath as the room stared uneasily at her. "I won't have you filling her head with idiotic notions of running off to find bloody fights to get herself killed or worse in-"

"Excuse me." Dad cut in firmly enough to be heard over her shouting. Carol turned her cutting gaze to him, but he held without openly flinching. I could tell how nervous he was, but it didn't show. He sat there, giving her a displeased look just shy of a glare, leaning forward towards us with his hands laced in his lap. His tone was firm, but low and calm when he continued. "I won't argue with what you're saying- I even agree with most of it- but I will not sit here and listen to you screaming at my daughter." Carol hissed in a breath, muscles clenching as her hackles raised. "If that's all that's happening here, we are going to leave. Otherwise, we should sit down and discuss this, like adults, and set a proper example for our children."

The words caused a bit of a stalemate, where she cooled down a little, before she started tensing up again, likely to jump down dad's throat about it. Her husband beat her to it. "I think he's right, dear." Carol turned her attention to the meek and tired man, an entire conversation passing between them in moments, barely slow enough that I could tell it was happening, let alone try to decipher it.

In the end she took a deep breath and heaved it out in a sigh, sitting back down. The mood of the room was still tense, but much better than it'd been since we got here. They were clearly waiting for us to sit, and Amy seemed to be waiting for my cue, but something about that entire interaction was digging at the back of my mind. It took me a moment to realize what. "How did you even know we were in the fight?" A teenager running off to see what might be a cape battle was extremely stupid, but also startlingly common for the Bay. Nothing about what I'd said seemed to indicate we'd done more than stand nearby like most gawkers did.

Carol glared at me. Dad heaved out a short sigh and rubbed at his eyes. Mr Dallon gave a shy smile and scratched rather obviously at his cheek. It took me a second to get it, and when I reached up to touch my own cheek, I drew the hand back with a pained hiss. What the hell? I turned to look for something reflective, and wound up darting over to a particularly glossily framed photo of Victoria to check my face. Sure enough, almost a third of it was an irritated red, with the cheek slowly darkening into a nasty bruise. It'd be one hell of a shiner by morning.

I turned to Amy, who flinched and mouthed a pained 'sorry'. She offered out her hand, and motioned me towards her when I hesitated. No reason not to, I suppose. I gave a half-hearted huff and took her hand, waiting and feeling as the dull ache I hadn't noticed until now started to fade. "There you go." She said quietly.

I murmured my thanks, and led her over to the couch dad was on. They all watched us as we did, Carol's eyes fixed on our clasped hands until we sat and I let go. I wasn't familiar enough with the woman to tell if her tension and apprehension were just her normal state, but I was starting to suspect so. "So..." I muttered, to incite the inquisition.

Dad took point, turning to the Dallons. "Would you like to start with some of your concerns, or should I?" I really shouldn't be surprised at how well he was mediating this with little more than tone and body language, but it was kind of his job, right? Sure he was mainly Head of Hiring, but he was also the Spokesman, lobbying for support at council meetings, sitting in on some of their contract deals to help smooth over negotiations, and drumming up business alongside the other unions.

My dad was kind of amazing, actually.

"Why did you bring Amy with you?" Carol asked, the roiling emotions I could detect peeking through into her calm facade a little.

"Gunshots mean gun wounds. I thought she might be able to save lives." I promptly replied.

"...into the fight?" She reiterated.

I hesitated, but these were heroes. More than that, concerned parents. I felt I had to give them something. "I knew I could keep her safe." Up until the end, anyway.

Carol quirked an eyebrow. "And if you couldn't? If she had been hurt?"

I curled up a bit, hesitating. Amy placed a comforting hand on my knee, and dad cut in. "Taylor has a phone, she could've-"

"Dad, it's okay." I mumbled, taking a deep breath, then another. "I'm a healer." I nearly shouted at the floor. Carol's eyes narrowed, even as her husband's widened. "I'm not as good as Amy is, not as fast, but... I could have healed her."

"And that makes it okay?" Carol hissed.

"Carol,"

"No, Mark." She snapped.

"Taylor," Dad cut in, which annoyed Carol but he didn't seem to care. "Why didn't you wait with me? We could have called it in to the police and kept going."

"PRT." I said. He let out a confused noise. "There were Empire capes there, and the truck that nearly ran us over was tinkertech. ...Besides, they'd already run off. We wouldn't have had any useful information if I hadn't stopped the truck, and at least one of those men could've died if Amy hadn't been there." Amy's 'so-so' hand gesture really didn't help, there.

Carol's pocket dinged, and she dug out her phone while dad talked. "I see. And why didn't you call them after stopping the truck?"

"I-" Huh. I don't know. it seems like the obvious option in hindsight, but it still left a bad taste in my mouth for some reason. I took a while to ponder it. "I think... I didn't trust them? To make it in time, or do their jobs if they got there..."

"Why?" Carol asked, and seemed honestly confused. ...in addition to her usual emotional cocktail.

I stuttered and trailed off, not sure how to answer. I didn't want to talk about the Locker, or anything even tangentially related to it. I didn't want to dwell on how badly the administration had let me down. Dad seemed at a loss for what to say too, but Amy perked up after a few seconds. "Trigger trauma." She stated.

"What?" I asked, turning to her.

"It has to do with what happened, right?"

I winced and hunched down again. "...yeah." I rubbed my arms, but it didn't help the shivers.

"So it's trigger trauma." Amy turned to her parents, looking incredibly offended on my behalf. "Not even a month old trigger trauma."

Had it really only been a month? "Huh. I was comatose through around the 10th, wasn't I?" That had everyone staring again. Dad and Amy giving me sympathetic looks, while the older Dallons looked slightly aghast. I shook my hands out in front of me. "No, I'm fine, I think. I... it's just been a busy month, is all."

"Bit of a roller coaster." Dad chimed in with a small smile.

Mark raised his hands placatingly. "It's fine, we won't bring it up, right dear?"

Carol still stared sharply, but I could tell her emotions were conflicted. "I will want to know why your trigger has you so distrustful of the PRT, at some point."

I winced again. That did sound rather bad, didn't it? "...sure." I nodded hesitantly.

"So you knew she was a cape." She nodded to dad, who nodded back. "And you knew." Amy huffed at her mother's tone, but inclined her head in a vaguely affirmative motion. "Does Victoria know?"

My face crinkled into a cringe. "I don't..." -think so? -have any intention of telling her? -want you to tell her? "...probably not?"

She hummed disapprovingly, but nodded. "The Wards aren't an option for whatever reason?" She asked dad.

Dad nodded. "Taylor wants to form her own hero team. I think having a heroic option that doesn't involve capes tying themselves to the government or outing themselves... no offense..." All three Dallons grimaced in their own way, but didn't actually seem offended. "...will be good for the city."

Carol rubbed her chin. "I can see where it might." She pointed. "And for the record, New Wave isn't currently recruiting anyway."

"That's fine." I said. "I have some leads on recruits, I've got my training handled, and I've even got an order in with Parian for my costumes already." I felt inordinately proud of that part.

"Costumes, plural?" She asked, as if she'd misheard.

Amy leaned forward and put her hand near her mouth to stage whisper. "She's a secret big pharma heiress."

"Ohh." Carol's head tilted up, acknowledging the point. "I assume she's had the standard abduction training, already?"

Wait, like anti-kidnapping? That's a thing? By the time I realized everyone was waiting for me to answer, I'd used up my thinking time. "I... punch good?"

Amy was snickering the whole time. Dad scoffed and smirked, shaking his head. Mark didn't seem sure how to react, so he was politely smiling. Carol failed to stifle a groan.

She took a breath, and I could see her thinking 'not my problem' before she continued. "We would appreciate it if you didn't drag members of New Wave, especially non-combatants, into your fights from now on."

I bristled at the implications there, but dad took over before I could snap at her. "That sounds reasonable. I'm sure trained heroes like yourselves are more than capable of determining their own course of action. Taylor needs to learn to ask, rather than assume a fellow hero will help." I was about to snap at him, when the sour-lemon look on Carol's face made me realize he'd taken my side.

In the end, she clicked her tongue. "Yes, quite." I got the feeling she was giving dad the point in their social fight, rather than actually agreeing with him. "It's getting late, Victoria will be home soon, if you'd like to avoid telling her." From her tone and body language, internal and not, she still didn't approve of keeping her daughter in the dark. She seemed more interested in getting us out of her house though, and it wasn't a bad reason to go. I glanced at dad and we shared a nod, then looked to Amy, who bit back a grimace, but twitched her head toward the door.

I got up, and when I passed Amy and she didn't, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her up. I dragged her as she half-heartedly protested until we wound up by the door, where I hugged her.

Dad had been stopped on his way to follow by mr Dallon, who'd called him 'mr Hebert' again. "Danny, please." Dad asked, holding out his hand.

"Mark." He shook the hand, and grabbed some scrap paper and pen from an end-table, scribbling out a number. "This is my number- not New Wave's, please don't hand it out-" Dad chuckled and nodded as he accepted the scrap. "I know how hard it can be raising a parahuman daughter. I can't promise I'll be able to help, but even if I can't, I can point you at people that can. Don't hesitate to ask."

They shook hands again, more firmly this time. "I won't, thank you."

While that was going on, I was whispering in Amy's ear. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this. Thank you for helping, anyway."

She sighed. "You didn't not have a point..." She pulled away, but kept her hands on my waist. "You didn't have to admit anything, or out yourself, you know." She muttered so the adults wouldn't overhear.

I smiled. "I couldn't throw you under the bus like that."

Her cheeks pinked a bit, and her chest started that frustrated rumbling again. Increased heartrate, muscle tension, elevated breathing... I'm not sure what set her off. She pushed again and turned away.

The adults were staring, by then. Carol with those dark, calculating eyes, and the dads with thier soft smiles.

"We should head out." Dad came to our rescue, and started towards us and the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" I asked Amy, who nodded and waved as she backed towards the stairs up to the bedrooms.

We got out to the truck and got in. Dad didn't bother with the radio this time. After a minute or so, he said, "Amy's a nice girl."

"Yeah?" I replied, not sure where he was going with that.

He shook his head with a little smile, and drove us home.

THU FEB 17

The morning started just like any other. Quick breakfast, workouts, check last night's homework, run to school... I still hadn't spotted anything suspicious within a couple blocks of myself on my run. I didn't know if that meant they'd just given up, or if I couldn't spot them. Sure I had the range to tell where people were and generally what they were up to farther than that, but it was much harder to tell if they were paying attention to me that far off.

I got to school and showered, texting Amy to see if she was at school yet when I was out. I wound up meeting her in the cafeteria for the school's questionable breakfast substitute. Way fewer students showed up for it than lunch, and the quality suffered. I still found Amy working her way through a plate of rubbery sausage and stale pancakes.

"Rough morning?" I asked. Amy usually ate at home, in spite of having to deal with her mother.

She shrugged. "Fine." She stabbed at her food. "Last night was weird, though."

"Sorry?"

"Not you." She waved away, "It's... never mind." She shook her head and went back to picking at her food.

I watched her dispassionately dissect the pressed gluten constructs for a few seconds. "Do... you want something else?"

She shrugged again. "Already hit my fruit quota."

I rolled my eyes. Of all the things to ration for breakfast, they choose the only palatable options? I hopped up and joined the short line, grabbing a couple apples and an instant oatmeal cup. Stupid two-fruit limit. I scanned my ID, poured some hot water from the little table set up after the pay station into the cup, and made my way back to Amy, tossing her one of the apples.

"You didn't have to do that." She grumbled.

"Shut up and eat." My tone was ruined by the small smirk I wore, but it got her smiling again.

I didn't see Cass in the halls, or at lunch. We didn't share classes, so I couldn't check that way. It wasn't too odd to not see her around, but at lunch? She wasn't outside at the bench, there were a few guys I didn't recognize with my earth senses smoking out there today. She was a big girl though, and didn't need me worrying over her, so I sat next to Amy.

"Taylor!" Kara erupted into my personal space.

"Hi!" I reflexively replied, nearly jumping into Amy's lap.

"Can I see your phone?" She asked with a far-too-innocent smile.

"Why?" I asked in what I hoped was a reasonable tone.

"I need it." She chirped happily.

"...but why?" She had her own phone, I'd seen her on it before.

"I neeeed it." She wheedled, wiggling as she stood there with her fists clenched in front of her mouth, causing her to jiggle in interesting wa- nope.

I shook my head to clear the thoughts. Still straight.

She stood there, pouting at me, her eyes twinkling as her lip quivered.

"At this point, you have three options." Amy stated from beside me. "You can either give her what she wants, wait until she starts fondling you until she finds it-" the grabby handsy motions Kara made weren't helping. "-or you can squirt your drink in her face." She took a sip of her fruit juice. "I am particularly fond of that last one."

I looked down at my own juice, and was immediately reminded of every time Madison ruined my day the same way.

With a heavy sigh, I fished out the phone and handed it over. It was just a phone, after all. Not like there was anything important on it. I had all the numbers I didn't remember written down at home and I'd never used the internet connection or the camera.

Kara let out a shrill squeal of delight and set upon the device, taking out her own and fiddling with both. Vicky floated over from Amy's other side, giggling and pointing at things, which just set Kara off again.

Amy's hand patted my shoulder. "Whatever comes of this, know that I did warn you." She patted me again. "You were a good friend, and I shall miss you." Pat.

I shrugged her hand off and waved it away. "Fuck off." This just set her to giggling, too. I couldn't keep the grin off my face. This was... nice. Having friends was nice.

Kinda' worried about my phone, now. This is usually when things go wrong with my day.

No, bad brain. This isn't Winslow. It's okay to be happy.

It is.

Really.

There were two more girls pointing at things now. I munched nervously at my food while Amy was busy negotiating social niceties with the girl who'd taken Vicky's seat.

Eventually it was done, and I was given my phone back, along with a slip of folded paper.

"I added a lock screen to your phone. Because you really need to lock your phone." She leaned in and whispered, "It is my birthday." She hovered ominously and tapped the paper. "Never forget my birthday." Then she hopped back and smiled brilliantly. "See you tomorrow, Tay! Toodles!"

The look of desperate alarm I shot my best friend was met with a snort and a shrug.

"Warn you, I did." She said once she'd finished chuckling.

"You really didn't." She shrugged and went back to her food while I checked the damage. I plugged in the new code- 090393- and searched through it. Photos still empty, no new apps, internet still defaults to trying to get me to set it up... I checked the contacts and sighed. Almost three dozen new numbers.

Kara's had a trio of hearts next to it.

Because of course it did.

...how did she even do that?

I spent the rest of lunch figuring out how to turn text and symbols into little faces and shapes.

After school, I made my way out the front doors and started to wonder what I was going to do with the rest of the day. I knew Amy was busy at the hospital, and Vicky was probably going to be there or at the college, since she seemed to plan her study days around Amy's schedule. I was starting to think I really needed to get Dinah's phone number. It was one thing to call her and see what she was up to, but an entirely different situation calling her home- the number I did have- and risk having one of the Alcotts answer and wind up having to ask if their daughter could play today.

The creep factor made me shiver, but I still couldn't help worrying about the girl.

I sent texts off to Cassie and Kara, asking if they wanted to hang out. Cass' came back quickly. A short "Sorry, busy." that rekindled the slight worry from earlier. Had she even come to school today? Thinking back to what I knew of her, I started to consider that I might not want to know whatever she was up to, today.

Kara's reply broke up my pondering, a much longer "Had plans with some girlfriends today, but you could come too, if you're interested." Except she spelled it differently and added a winky-face at the end.

After my blush receded to the point I didn't think I'd overheat, I politely declined her invitation.

That left me with not much to do for the rest of the day. I'd had a pretty easy time keeping up with my homework just taking an hour or two a night before bed to get it done, so I didn't feel a particular need to study. I didn't have any running around to do, and social activities like going to the movies were things that never appealed to me, solo.

With a shrug, I decided that falling back on training was a good option. It'd been a while since I'd sat down and practiced with my powers, anyway. I sent dad a text saying I'd be 'out late at practice' and took a bus north. The buses didn't go all the way to the Trainyard or Boat Graveyard, but they came closer to there than they did the slums to the southeast.

After I got off the bus and went a few more blocks through the progressively more dilapidated areas leading to the disused and drug-peddler-ridden areas that made up the Merchant's territory, I ducked into an alleyway, slipped on a hoodie, tied my hair back, and put on one of those spare domino masks.

Now that I thought about it, Amy didn't seem to mind that I'd basically swiped her pack of masks last night, but better to make sure. I sent her a text asking if she wanted them back.

Her reply was the text equivalent of a shrug. Then she said she'd just grab another pack from the hospital while she was there. I almost asked her about that, but hesitated. The masks were pretty cheap-looking. Sturdy synthetic fiber things with nylon cord ties and a metal loop to thread the ties through, they were obviously mass-produced. If I saw them in a store somewhere, I wouldn't be surprised if the pack was less than ten bucks. Amy probably had permission to resupply at the hospital, and even if she didn't, it was probably a case of an office worker swiping a box of paperclips from the supply closet. Sure it was illegal and someone in the company might get mad about it, but most of their co-workers either wouldn't care or did the same thing, right? Might be worth bringing up if I remembered later, but not worth potentially starting a text argument while she was working.

As I made my way to the Trainyard, aiming for one of the piles of compacted rusty traincars I'd left last time, I kept my senses peeled. While I walked, I called in three different back-alley meetings I was pretty sure were drug deals to the police using my burner phone. I was a bit surprised I didn't see any other obvious crime about, but people from this area probably preferred to mug people from the other, richer, parts of town. I'd debated just leaving the tips anonymously, but figured there wasn't any harm in admitting to being a cape who preferred not to punch people if I didn't have to. The cops seemed pleasantly surprised, since if I didn't get involved, that cleared up any jurisdiction issues that might crop up with the PRT. Nothing wrong with non-PRT cops busting up non-cape deals and such, I guess. They did tell me that if I got into a fight, it's the PRT I should call, though.

I made it through the no-longer-effective fencing surrounding most of the Trainyard, only having to walk an additional half block to find a hole through it big enough I could simply walk in. Took another five minutes to make my way to where I'd thought the pile was. It didn't look like anyone had picked through it, but I still dropped some rocks on it just to be safe.

I woke up, shaking my head to try and clear the dizziness and ringing. I was in a collapsed shed, pushing little bits of brick and sheet metal rubble off of myself. It took longer than I would've liked to remember what'd been going on, and to check my phone. With how groggy I'd been up until now, I wasn't sure how long I'd been up, but I must've been out for at least half a minute or so, maybe more. I hobbled to my feet and climbed out of the rubble. It looked like a bomb went off.

...which, yeah. That makes sense.

I felt a truck full of people coming to investigate, and was feeling considerably less merciful than I had before being exploded. I hid a little further back among the still-standing walls of one of the larger dilapidated warehouses as they got out and started checking through the wreckage. There were six guys, all of them skinny or with only a bit of paunch, and all of them armed, though I could only find guns on three of them. A couple of the gun guys had done the smart thing, waiting out in the open while their buddies tried to figure out what'd happened.

I decided to hit the watchmen first. Shooting the concrete under their feet up a couple inches made both stumble. One fell over and stayed there long enough for me to pull up slabs from either side of him and lock him down there. The other had rolled as soon as he hit the ground, so I had a rock slam into his gun hand's wrist fast enough to at least sting. I heard him yelp from where I was hiding, cradling his hand. I didn't give myself time to feel bad about hurting him, pulling the floor out from under him again. This time I caught him in the same type of 'stone tent' structure I'd trapped his friend in.

By then the rest of them had scrambled out of the rubble they were looking over, and headed back. They slowed to a stop, looking around confused, while the two on the ground shouted at them. I couldn't hear what was being said, but knew it was probably best to not give them time. I repeated my disarming trick with the one who still had a gun, and ran out from behind the corner. As I went, I had the concrete under their feet push up a little under each foot one at a time, leading them to stumbling mostly in the directions I wanted them to go. Three of them fell together in a heap, and I trapped them by making a shallow pit and rolling them into it, followed by capping it with a thick concrete slab.

The last, I kept stumbling about until I made my way to him and punched him. He fell, groaned, and shuffled on the ground, so I stacked a couple more diagonal slabs on him like the first two.

I surveyed my work, blocking out the shouting as I did so. I took a deep breath and heaved it out.

Yeah. That felt good.

With a grin, I fished my burner phone out, the cheaper system having cracked a bit in the explosion. Might need another one soon, I guess. Should also try to keep my personal phone away from fights in the future, to keep it away from potential damage. I flipped through the redial and held the phone to my ear.

"Brockton Bay Police Department." Came the voice of the same lady I'd talked to the last few times.

"Hi! It's Terraform again." I still felt a giddy thrill every time I said it. "I was looking around the Trainyard when something I was poking at exploded. I think it was a trap, since a half dozen guys showed up to investigate a few minutes later."

I'd heard typing while I talked, and the woman's tone was much more serious now. "Are you okay?"

Something in her voice made me pause. "Yeah?" I looked down to actually start checking myself for injuries. No big clothing tears, no blood I could find... I felt fine, so, "Yeah. I should be fine."

The mic picked up a small sigh of relief. "Good." A little more keyboard tapping. "Where are you, in the Trainyard?"

"Southeast part, uhh..." I looked around, and spotted the building I'd hidden in. "One of the buildings nearby says '442' on it."

"Got it." She said, tapping again. "You said there was an explosion?" I agreed. "Were there any visible tanks, maybe rusty cylinders or fire hazard signs around?" I didn't remember anything like that, and said as much. "Alright. You mentioned guys, were you in a fight?" Something about that tickled the back of my mind, but I couldn't remember what until I answered yes, and she continued with a sigh. "I've already got a team heading your way, but in the future when you get into a fight, that makes it a PRT case. Do you understand?" Her tone was firm, but it didn't sound like an admonishment. Still, I groaned.

"Yeah, I understand." I checked over the thugs again. "With everything going on, I forgot. I'm sorry."

She chuckled. "It's fine, I wish you could call us for anything, but times have changed a bit. Now, the PRT needs calling over this. Would you prefer I handle that?"

I winced. "You wouldn't mind?"

I could hear the shrug in her voice. "Part of the job."

"Alright, yeah. If you would."

A bit more keyboard clicking. "Alright, the guys I sent should be about five minutes out from you. Hang tight, okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be here." I paused. "And, thank you."

"Sure thing, Terraform." I could tell she was smiling, as the call disconnected.

Now I just had to wait. I kicked some rocks around for a bit, before I decided I might as well set off any traps at the other piles I'd started last time I was here. I didn't need incredible accuracy for it at this range, just dumping more rubble onto the piles to shake them up like I had this one. A couple more went off like this one had, but the rest didn't. I'm not sure if that meant anything, but it's possible they only found or bothered with a few of them. They all seemed to kick up a bit activity, though. Usually one or two people coming to check on things before leaving.

Then my phone started to ring. When I checked it, it was a call from Dinah's folks.

Fantastic timing, that.

With a groan, I checked around. The thugs were quieter now, but not quiet. I wound up running at a wind-assisted-sprint down a few buildings, to one with a stable-looking roof. Then I scaled the side and made sure my footing was stable before I answered, about four seconds after it'd started ringing.

"Taylor!" Cheryl replied to my greeting. "How are you, dear?"

"I'm doing fine," Do I, or don't I? "but I'm a little busy. Going to need to go in a few minutes."

She chuckled. "Oh, I won't keep you. I was hoping to catch you before you made plans for the weekend. Would you be free Saturday to help Dinah again? She's been doing much better since the weekend, happier and more focused when she studies." I could hear the subtle pleading in her tone.

"Yeah, that's fine. I can drop by Saturday." There were some cars coming, probably the police.

"That's wonderful, dear. Dinah and I will be here whenever you drop by, just like last week."

A car and an SUV, both in police colors, were slowly rounding on the explosion site. "I'll be there. I've got to go, though."

"Of course dear, I'll see you then." I gave one last 'bye' before ending the call, hopping down off the building and floating to the ground on a strong burst of wind. I made my way over just as they were getting out. Four officers and a technician in a tactical vest.

I smoothed down the hair that'd frizzed a bit from the excitement, and dusted myself off. "Hi! I'm Terraform." They paused as I came up to them, then the technician headed off to the blast site and a couple officers peeled off to check the scene. "I'm sorry about calling you out here, I'm told I should've called the PRT?"

"Oh no, miss." The older one, bigger with short hair and stubble, said. "Sometimes it's nice just being remembered by the capes around here." Partly true, with hints of sarcasm not evident in his gruff voice.

"Well..." I muttered, trying to think of ways to help make their trip worth it. "I was out here to train a bit, cleaning the area up a little with my powers. This is one of the places I stopped at last time, I think they trapped it in case I came back." The younger one had a pad out now, and was writing notes. "I remember where the other places were, I could mark them if you have a map?"

The gruff one hummed and left to dig a map of the bay out of a glove box. "You think they might have tried the same thing at these other places?" He asked when he handed it over with a pen.

They both jumped when I made a small table out of the ground to write on, but didn't comment. "Yeah, I think so." I compared the map to the information from my senses a few times, before I felt confident I'd gotten them all right. "Here you go." I said as I pushed the 'table' back into the ground and handed off the map. "I hope this helps."

"Should be worth looking into, yes." There was a strong undercurrent of 'might as well, we're already here' to his words.

We exchanged introductions to pass the time, but it wasn't that long before a couple of PRT wagons rolled up. Two of the officers took off in their car, while the other two and the CSI guy waited with me. Six PRT officers and two more technicians filed out of their vehicles. After they took in the scene, the four that were obviously armed broke off to form a perimeter. One of the techs broke off to inspect the blast site, and the other followed the two storm troopers over to us.

"Terraform?" One asked through an obvious voice modulator.

"That's me." I answered. The PRT tech motioned off to the side, where the police tech followed. The pair exchanged what little data he'd gathered before the PRT showed up.

"We have some questions we'd like you to answer." From the way no one was moving to take notes, I assumed the whole thing was being recorded. I nodded for him to continue. "What happened, that lead to this confrontation?"

I rolled my eyes and relayed the story of coming to train and the explosion that followed. Partway through, the techs had finished commiserating, and the three headed out. From the way the officer was brandishing the map I'd marked, they were heading off to check the other sites. I kept going through the details of the fight, and then my call to the police.

"And why didn't you call the PRT about a conflict involving a cape?" He asked, once I'd finished. He outwardly sounded rather neutral and monotone, his body language professionally inexpressive. I could tell from my senses though, that he was irritated about the topic.

...probably best I not mention how well I can read them through all of their fancy tech and training.

"I'd already called them a few times about drug deals I'd spotted on my way here, but passed over. I don't know if the explosion rattled my brain, or I was just distracted from the fight, or whatever else, but I just hit redial instead of thinking to look for the right number." Wasn't going to make that mistake again after having it beaten into my brain so many times, today.

"Hrm." I could tell the answer wasn't a satisfactory one, but he was a little less tense about my accidental slight, at least. "We should see to the captives, then."

He led me over to the thugs, who'd already been checked and photographed by one of the techs, and checked on by the pair of troopers armed with those foam sprayers while the last two with real guns kept watch on the yard. "They're all armed, I think." Knew, rather, but they didn't have to know that. "I know that one still has a gun." I pointed out the first guy I'd caught, and he spat some derogatory words my way.

My interrogator motioned one of the foam troopers over, then had me start releasing them. None of them managed to give the armored troops more than a second's trouble before they were cuffed. Even the ones I'd piled together were handled quickly by a trooper each. While they were being boxed up in one of the transports, I headed over to one of the techs.

"Sooo... is this still a crime scene, or can I go back to practicing here when they're gone?" I asked.

The guy shrugged. "If you want to, after what happened. We have everything we needed from the scene."

"Alright, thanks." I immediately started clearing up some of the rubble from the collapsed buildings. It was interesting using the brick and concrete to manipulate the metal attached to it, and pretty soon I had some good piles going. The troopers had, of course, stuck around to film some of my training, before they packed up and headed off.

Then I got into the interesting stuff, smashing more train cars, tearing up old ruined rail, and dismantling some of the worse buildings. About an hour after I started into that, my phone went off again. This time it was Sue.

Greetings exchanged, she cut down to business. "The majority want to support cleaning up the city, and think helping a hero team do it better is a good step forward, there. A few of us aren't so sure," herself included, I knew. "but we've been doing little else but surviving for so long, even a few of the more moderate are becoming restless."

"A couple questions..." she hummed for me to continue. "What do you even want me to help you with, and..." the part I was worried about. "I'm... not sure I want to commit to much, without knowing who I'm helping. I want to meet some of them, first."

She grumbled a bit, then said, "Fair, but complicated. It's going to take a bit of work gathering together such a disparate group, most of us have day jobs, or night jobs, or other obligations..." She hummed in thought. "I can have some of us around sometime over the weekend? It might not be the showing you want, but it's what I can do on short notice."

"That's fine, I just want to put some faces to this shadowy organization I'm supposed to be helping."

She seemed to take the joke well, since she chuckled. "As to the other part, I would be happy with some warning about cape actions that might spur gang retaliation, like if a cape was captured and we could expect violence soon with an escape attempt. Maybe a word about unusual gang movements, or unusual Protectorate movements, that might mean a strike on the gangs soon. Things we can use to keep our heads down." That seemed... not so bad, actually. "The youngsters on the other hand, want to see if you can use any of our information. Hitting storehouses, cutting supply lines, gods help them maybe taking down capes." Sue hissed and I could hear rustling, she sounded incredibly unhappy. "The sorts of things that kick off the sort of violence we try to avoid. Kills people. Makes targets for the gangs." She spat. Then she sighed. "The young want change because they haven't seen what it costs, yet."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. "I'm... sorry?"

"No, child." I could tell she was shaking her head, again. "That you can have this optimism means our generation has done well enough, protecting yours. I can't blame you for dreaming. I just don't believe all of you will live to see the end of fighting for them." There was a deep sorrow to her words. Then she took a deep breath and I could hear her forcing a smile. "But, if it works? If you really can make the city better, safer, then... Maybe it will be worth it."

"I have to try." I forced more confidence than I felt, after all that.

"I know." The resignation in her tone cut deeply. "You want your meeting," She added, to change the topic. "so when did you have in mind for it?"

It was actually a bit of a relief, to move away from all that fatalism. "I've got plans Saturday, maybe Sunday?"

She hummed. "Morning might be best. Night owls not yet to bed, day workers not in yet..." She took a moment to think. "Can get at least six, maybe eight? Will have to see. How early can you manage?"

My face broke into a grin. "I rise with the sun."

"Eight, then. Gives you time to get around town, some time for the nine-to-fivers to get to work. Depends how long it goes."

"Sounds good." Plans made, the call ended.

I didn't have any more trouble from the gangs, probably because of the police and PRT sniffing around. When I thought I had one place cleared enough for now, I'd move on to a new one. This continued into the night, when I finally made my way home to tell dad about my day.

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Dalxein

Dalxein

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Feb 7, 2020

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#79

FRI FEB 18

After my normal morning routine, I texted Amy to see what she was up to for today. She replied with a zombified 'shut up or coffee' that had me chuckling. On my run I honestly considered putting on a mask and dashing past Arcadia to a coffee shop near there to get her something, before meeting her at her house and heading to school from there together. While funny, it was an unnecessary risk, and I'd been taking too many of those recently as it was.

Amy was already at school by the time I was done with my shower again. Seated in the cafeteria like before, she'd skipped most of the food options this time, and I repeated my play from yesterday before sitting down next to her, handing her a banana this time. Her stare was nonplussed, almost glaring at me through baggy, slightly bloodshot eyes.

"This better not be a dick joke." She muttered.

I shrugged, cutting mine up into my instant oatmeal. "You know I don't make dick jokes."

She seemed to consider my words for a moment, eyeing the fruit warily before deciding she wasn't at risk of impending pun and started peeling the thing.

"What're your plans for after practice, today?" I asked, mostly to fill the silence. "And why do you look like you haven't slept?"

She eyed me for a moment and huffed a breath out her nose. "Avoiding Carol. Didn't work." She took a quick bite of the fruit. "Vicky wants to hang out, today."

"Is she coming to the practice?"

Amy shook her head. "Nah, she's got a thing." From the disdain in her tone, I guessed the thing involved Dean. Sensing that Amy was looking over my shoulder where Vicky was sitting with him just cemented the idea for me.

"Do... you want me to come along?" I didn't want to sound too pushy or hopeful, but honestly the thought of getting away from it all after whatever Kara had planned seemed like a good idea.

Amy seemed to consider it for a long while, pretending to chew when I knew her fruit didn't need it. I was starting to think she'd turn me down, when she said "Sure. I know Vicky won't mind."

I heaved a little sigh of relief, which had her looking at me oddly, feeling fairly confused. "It's fine. Everything's fine." I said. She wasn't convinced, but dropped it. "I'll see you at lunch, I guess?" Then I got up and started getting ready for class a little early, rather than risk any awkwardness. She let me go, and I watched in my senses as she sat there, contemplating until the bells started ringing.

I meandered the halls on the way to lunch. Taking the long way and the occasional wrong turn, spreading my senses out through the school while I thought. I still couldn't feel Cassie anywhere. I was fairly sure I was familiar enough with her to recognize her through the ground, but I was on my fifth or sixth pass through everyone on the school grounds. She just wasn't here.

Also, I was procrastinating on talking with Amy again.

Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I sent Cass a text. 'Are you okay?'

The reply was a succinct 'I'm fine.'

I deleted the original 'You're not at school' and replaced it with 'I can't find you anywhere, are you sure you're okay?'

'Just busy.'

'Busy enough to miss school?'

'Family stuff.'

I could tell she wanted me to drop it, but I didn't want to be the sort of person who did that. 'Do you need help? You know I'll do whatever I can.' There. Fourth time through re-writing it, but it shouldn't go over badly, anyway. I was almost to the cafeteria by the time she replied, despite not changing my wandering path there.

'Maybe. I'll think about it.'

It wasn't much, but it was enough. I sent her an 'okay' and got in the food line, smiling a little.

Amy was sitting with Vicky and her friends, but I didn't see Kara nearby. Wary of another ambush, I slowly sat down. A few moments later my senses spotted her a couple hallways away. With a small sigh, I turned to Amy, who'd been giving me an odd look.

"Yesterday." I summed up. She hummed a noise of realization and nodded upward, in a way that reminded me of something Carol had done while I was over the other day.

We sat in silence for a bit, watching and listening to the chatter around us. Amy was watching the teens around us like a hawk and occasionally poking her sister, while I was keeping an 'eye' on the whole school, and Kara in particular. Eventually the silence got to me. "So, what's Vicky's 'thing' today?"

The girl herself heard me, and cut off her other conversation to answer giddily. "I'm meeting up with the Wards for a joint patrol after school."

Huh. That was interesting. "Can they do that?" I asked Amy.

She shrugged. "They're really not supposed to, but no one cares."

"Hey, if it was a problem, someone would've said something." Vicky pouted. "I do it every week or two, and no one's complained."

Uh-huh. That sounded just weird enough that I was sure something was going on. Either the Wards weren't reporting it, or their superiors weren't passing it on... maybe it was just Glory Girl and her aura getting her way again. Then again, it might be encouraged. Forming rapports with independents to entice them into the government cape groups. That one sounded about right, from what I knew of them.

By the time I was done with my musings, Vicky was already back to her previous conversation, and Kara was finishing up in the lunch line. She made her way straight to us, as I knew she would, trailed by a few other girls.

"Hey, Tay." She giggled at her rhyme, and I warily greeted her in turn. "I've got everything set up for today, but a couple girls wanted to meet you before they'd drop by."

The three girls she'd indicated couldn't be more different, aside from all being white. "This is Abby," Who was large, less in the heavy-but-curvy way Kara was, and more just... round. She was shy and I could tell she was nervous. "Millie," Another shy one, anxious this time. She was short and mousy, and wore glasses. She just looked so... frail. "and Susan." who was tall, around my height, and where the other two had shoulder-ish length brown hair, Susan's was long, lustrous, and dark. If my hair were straight and you tweaked our faces a bit, she could pass as my older sister. Where the others were shy, she just seemed bored.

"O-kay?" I hadn't expected to need to help with this. I had no idea what to tell them. "What can I help you with?"

The two shy ones looked at each other, and seemed to be competing for who'd have to talk first. In the end, Abby stepped up. "Uh, do you... think you... er, can I?" She indicated herself, and I bit back my scathing thoughts at her shyness. Instead I took the time to really assess her, as she fidgeted.

"I don't think you'd do well with a lot of the advanced forms I know-" She deflated a bit. "-but we're probably not going to get to those with just a couple hours a week after school. Anyone can learn the basics." She seemed satisfied with this, and let her friend talk next.

Or she would, if the girl would stop thinking and fidgeting. How had this girl even survived in Brockton until now? "Just... wanted to see. Maybe talk a bit?" I nodded. Getting to know your teacher a little before you'd trust them made sense. I got up and indicated one of the less full tables nearby, and Kara happily lead them over to claim it. I turned to the last girl.

Susan shrugged. "I was just curious. You don't look like much." If it hadn't been for all my experience with Sophia saying things like that, with every inflection imaginable, I probably would've missed the utter neutrality in the statement. It was a fact, like she'd just mentioned it was partly cloudy today.

"You don't, either." Were I anyone else, I might've missed the small smirk that went with her more obvious shrug. Her clothes were nice, but weren't opulent like the socialites' were. She obviously took care of herself, from the look of her hair and the light makeup I could see. If it weren't for her height and hair, she'd be incredibly average at best. Much like myself. "What has you interested practicing with us?"

Her head tilted in a semi-shrug. "Hard to beat free, compared to the other options. Less time commitment, too. Rather focus on studies, but I'd hate to waste the time by not making it to University." By not surviving the bay, she meant. I nodded. That sounded entirely fair.

I turned to Amy. "You coming?"

She paused, thinking about it. She turned to gaze somewhat longingly at her sister's back for a moment, before some tension leaked from her body and she nodded. "I might as well." She poked her sister to tell her to watch herself, since she wouldn't be there to do it for her, and followed us over.

Kara was smugly reigning over the now empty- aside from us- table, when we got there. "So! How about we talk a little about ourselves?" When no one took her up on the offer, she continued. "I'm me, and amazing, I like most things, and dislike the rest with a violent passion." She muttered the last part darkly, despite the bright so-wide-her-eyes-were-closed smile she wore. "Pompoms! You're up." She cheered, as the last girl sat down with us.

Susan rolled her eyes, but spoke up while re-arranging her tray. "Susan Stralson. I like studying, mostly science. I'm going to be going to university for something science-adjacent, possibly engineering, but I'm not sure what, yet."

Kara smirked. "You sure that's everything, cheer-girl?" Susan gave a low grunt as she dug into her food.

"You're a cheerleader?" I asked. I'd felt that she was fit, but I'd thought it was just regular exercise like I was getting.

She shrugged. "Just in it for the scholarship."

"She's good, though. And really flexible." Kara chipped in. Susan cleared her throat without turning from her food, and Kara made an affirmative hum and briefly held her hands up just over the table's edge. The other two girls blushed a little, and I had to wonder what Susan had on her, that Kara would quiet down that quickly.

Kara patted Abby's shoulder, the girl startling a bit. "I... uhm. Abby Gray. I like drawing and music."

"I keep telling you, you should try out for the band." Our cheerful host cut in.

"I don't know..." At Abby's muttering, Kara gave me a rather significant look. What did she want me to say about it? I hardly knew any of them!

"Uh, it doesn't seem so bad?" I tried, but what did I even know about band? Winslow's music department was one of the worse off in that dumpster fire, with the school not willing to buy instruments, and the students usually too poor to afford them either. It was really just an excuse to hang together to avoid the roving gangs and bullies. "After you're in, it's just another crowd, right?" Abby tensed, and Kara made a strangled noise. "I mean, you don't need to stand out at all, just be another face in the group." That seemed to calm nerves a bit.

"Millie?" Kara seemed to want the momentum to keep going, but the shy little freshman seemed barely able to handle the spotlight.

"Uhm... I... I like... things." She started to shiver, and I held a hand out to where she was sitting, on the other side of Amy. She eyed the hand and nodded, but didn't take it. "I... want to be better. More confident."

I knew that feeling. "Don't worry, I'll do what I can to help." She smiled, but still seemed uninterested in my hand, so I brought it back to my side. Well, I guess that just left me and Amy. "I'm Taylor Hebert. I like training and reading." Though I hadn't had much time for books, lately. "And I'm getting into meditation and tutoring, I guess." Scape-Dinah, go!

Kara gave an exaggerated 'wow' and a brief bout of quiet clapping, and everyone turned to Amy.

She shrugged, picked at her food some more, and said "Amy Dallon. Not really going to change your minds about me one way or another." with a shrug. That was... honestly incredibly defeatist, in my opinion.

Kara's smile looked a tad brittle as she changed the topic. "So, how're classes going?"

I relayed that I was mostly caught up after Winslow, which brought on the usual round of 'are the rumors true' and I dutifully relayed that the myths and legends of the dank morass of humanity's leavings were as Mordor-ian as the prophecy had fortold. Everyone else's classes were going fine, and I learned that Abby and Millie were indeed freshman, and Millie was enjoying the hard science classes while Abby was muddling through them, but liking some of the softer topics. Susan was a junior like Kara, but already taking a couple introductory college courses to go with her AP classes. Unlike seniors like Victoria though, all of Susan's college work was in addition to regular school hours, instead of filling in the time.

The rest of lunch was surprisingly pleasant, before we broke up to finish classes for the day.

I met up with Amy on the way to the gym, where we were supposed to meet Kara. I could tell she was on her way, and figured I might as well let her gather people up before we showed up, so I could avoid the awkward introductions-while-waiting phase and jump straight to training. To this end, I slowed down a bit. "So, who all do you think will be there? How many people signed on?"

Amy shrugged. "Most of Kara's friends will be there. Plus a few curious people who might drop out, evened out a bit by people waiting to see if this is going to be a thing before joining up... maybe twenty people?"

I stopped and stared. She kept walking for a bit, then turned. "What?"

"What?" She mirrored unintentionally. "You didn't think more than a week's drumming up would have no one show up, did you? It's a big school."

"Yeah, but that's..." More people than I thought I could handle. "I might need help."

Amy rolled her eyes. "That's why I'm here to save you. Aren't I the best?" The mostly-deadpan drawl to the question marked it as sarcastic and rhetorical, but I answered anyway.

"You're my hero." I opened my arms and stalked towards her, and she backed away holding up her arms.

She was blushing a little, her heart racing and breathing sharp and unsteady as she backed away. "No hugging!"

I dropped my arms and pouted a little. I didn't think that'd set her off that badly. I really needed to figure out her buttons, so I could avoid pushing them. "Yeah, alright." I muttered, then spoke up a tad louder. "I'm really not going to be getting into more than the basics with them, am I?"

Another shrug. "I really doubt it. You're barely past the basics with me, right?" I nodded. "Don't worry about it. If they're after advanced training, they can bark up a different tree." Or ask nicely for my time, I thought to myself. Though honestly, my time was getting a bit scarce lately. They'd have to make do.

We headed through the main doors to the gym building, letting us in to the balcony that ringed the recessed main court area, and was lined with rooms set aside for the school's different batches of exercise equipment. We headed over to the railing to look down at the court, which was lined with folded-back bleachers along its length, with hallways off the ends to bathrooms, mat storage, some offices, and the tunnel under the road between the buildings, which led to the main locker rooms in Arcadia's basement. The floor was covered in mats, since outside was nice enough for people to use the outdoor courts for basketball games and the like.

I already knew where Kara was, but when I looked, my eyes were immediately drawn to the tall, firetruck-red-haired amazon towering above their little group. She had to be a senior, and their classes are usually on different floors than my sophmore ones, but I don't remember seeing her in the lunchrooms at all. In fact, looking over the group- of which Amy was sadly correct, being almost two dozen girls- I spotted at least six with dyed hair, given their bright coloring.

"What's with all the hair dye?"

"A lot of girls around, especially at Arcadia, have blonde hair. Usually with blue or green eyes." Amy said, her voice low and serious. "Which isn't really the best thing, considering what city we're in." E88, yeah. After a moment, she continued. "Around when I started high school, there was a bunch of girls who started dying their hair. Turned out, it was something Kara's group started in middle school, and it'd made it here faster than she did." She paused for a second. "Vicky gets away with looking like the 'aryan ideal' because she's obviously a hero, fighting Nazis whenever she can. The hair dying is a sort of extreme passive-aggression the girls from the nicer neighborhoods can sometimes get away with."

Huh. "And Kara?" She was bordering the line between blonde and light brown, herself.

"Usually bright as a peacock. She dyes her hair back to normal every so often, I think to make herself more approachable to lure new people in. Longest I've seen her stay blonde, actually."

That... actually sounded pretty bad. The girl herself was already waving up at us, though. The time to back out had passed. I briefly debated just vaulting the rail, but dismissed it as needless showboating. Amy and I took the stairs.

Kara greeted us, and started through introductions. I recognized Erika, the girl who'd asked me out, and Serei, the girl who'd gone paintballing with Cass and I. When Tracy, the tall dyed-redhead, was pointed out, things clicked together in my head. Even I'd heard a little about her; the star of the basketball team, with near-perfect grades. The other dyed girls stuck in my head after what Amy'd said. Amanda was pretty average, short dyed red hair, I'd usually seen her hanging around Kara, and from the way they'd been flirting the other day, I was pretty sure they were more than friends. Green-haired Tiffany was standing off near Susan, both were cheerleaders, and I could see a family resemblance. Tina was tiny, with regal purple hair to her shoulders, and sharp aristocratic features just starting to poke out from her baby fat. Julia and Stephanie seemed pretty normal despite their blue and canary-yellow hair.

I tried to keep track of the rest, but they all blurred together a bit. I wasn't too worried, I didn't have to memorize everyone today, after all. After the introductions, I said hi to Serei and Erika, then got down to business.

"Okay! So, we're probably not going to get too advanced with a few hours a week practice, but I'm going to show you some basics and how to practice them yourselves if you want. It doesn't really matter why you're here, I know some people want to learn to defend themselves, or have extra exercise they can do, or feel more confident in themselves..." I sent some looks to the girls I'd already talked to, while keeping an eye on the rest. "And hopefully this can help with all of that. We're going to start with falls, basic strikes, and grip-breaks, and over the next few weeks we'll start getting into proper leverage, stances and styles, and some active meditation like Tai-Chi katas to help keep things from getting rusty. That sound good? Any questions?"

I got a few questions about what styles I knew, where I'd trained, some other basic questions as to my qualifications. After that I demonstrated a couple falls, had Amy do the same, then we took the girls two-at-a-time to try it themselves. After a bit, it took Amy snapping "I'll heal you up if you bruise, ya nambies, just do it!" to get the lines moving again. I took the shyer looking girls after that, but twenty minutes in each girl had given a try or two, and none were complaining of injuries.

"Learning falls is pretty important. We'll be starting out every practice with it, just to make sure people have it down. Just in case that's not what you're here for though, we're going to make sure you all actually know how to throw a punch, and more importantly, how not to do it."

We went through some more demonstrations, then I gave everyone the choice of working on strikes with me, or practicing falls with Amy. Four of the girls, Abby and Millie among them, decided they didn't feel like learning to punch yet. Most of the rest seemed eager to move on.

The group spent about half an hour working on that, and partway through Kara stopped her own practice to help the girls near her. The fact that she was also correcting little things like stance and posture, told me she knew her stuff. Far more than I'd thought, making me question again why I was even here. I pushed on, though. Taking the brunt of the teaching work while the other girls trickled in from the falls group, and a couple curious bystanders came up to join in.

Then we started on breaking grabs. We went over basic grappling, and the kinds of grabbing they'd more likely encounter if they were getting mugged or kidnapped. This time after the demonstrations, we split the group three ways to go over it. An hour later, I told the group they could work on whatever they liked for the next half hour or so. Amy took the newcomers and a couple of the others aside to work on falls, Kara took a third of the girls to practice more strikes, while I oversaw the rest practicing grapples and breaks.

"Alright, I think that went pretty well for a first day. Hit the showers everyone, I'll see you next week. Kara? Amy?" The two of them stayed, the rest getting the hint to head off, after a few quick goodbyes. I turned to Amy. "Where's Vicky at? She going to drop by soon?"

She dug out her phone, checked the time and messages. "Yeah, looks like her patrol's almost done. She'll be by in a bit. I can go meet her, I guess?"

I nodded and said 'okay', and she left saying she'd see me in a bit. I turned to Kara, eyeing the girl warily. "We need to talk."

Her usual bright and toothy smile was more subdued than usual, but that just brought her down to looking like a chipper girl having a good day, instead of a manic whirlwind of 'fun'. "Yeah, alright. Where to?"

I checked with my senses, and the lot beside the gym was mostly empty. There were two paths past the building to get to the track field and outdoor courts on the other side of it from Arcadia's main building, and the one on that side was locked up. I motioned for her to follow and she complied.

When we got there, I kept some attention on my senses to ensure we wouldn't be interrupted, but the rest of it was laser-focused on her. "You're a martial artist."

Her smile faltered fractionally, before it returned as she clucked her tongue and replied. "Yup."

"So you didn't need me." It didn't make sense. If she could just teach them herself, why wouldn't she? Hell, a lot of the girls weren't even complete novices, and none of the colored-hairs seemed to not know what they were doing. She probably already was. The confusion and frustration caused me to tense and assume the worst. "You were using me?"

She pouted. "And not even in any of the fun ways, I know, I'm sorry!"

I saw red. Teeth clenched, fists shaking, I hissed, "Why?" I heaved in a deep breath. "I thought you wanted to be friends." And just like all my other 'friends' she'd just betray me, like the sycophants, like Emma, like...

No. Not like Amy.

My eyes welled slightly with tears.

For the first time since I'd met her, her smile dropped completely. Her back straightened, weight shifted, her eyes narrowed. It was like she'd aged two years in as many seconds. "Taylor, honey." She said, sweetly. "No offense, but you're the dorky loner girl. If you start teaching other girls to defend themselves, that makes you cool." I didn't feel very cool, right now. "I'm 'that crazy dyke'. If I start teaching girls how to fight, the Nazis drop all pretense of trying to convince me how great their dicks are, and just fucking shoot me for being the 'next Lustrum'."

I clenched and unclenched my hands a few times. She kept talking. "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, but I'm not sorry about giving my girls a place where they can come together, in public, and learn to protect themselves. No more worrying about who might be watching, no waiting for some stalker to pick them off on the way home from a women's shelter or civic center, or never even make it out of an Empire gym, or ABB 'dojo'." She spat the word, almost growling before she drew deep with her nose and kept on. "I'm sorry you're hurting, but I'm not apologizing."

What the hell do I even say to that? Nothing she said pinged anything but truth to my senses. I took deep breaths, started pacing as my heart raced and my body demanded action. Kara stood there, calmly waiting for me to work it out of my system. After a minute or so of active brooding, I turned back to her. "I don't like being manipulated." I growled.

She smirked. "Well, now that you know, it can be more fun for everyone, right?"

I snapped. "And stop with the damned flirting!" I threw my arms out, and almost unleashed a torrent of something to release the pressure of the rage roiling under my skin. "What the hell do I have to do to get you to just stop!?"

Her smile was gone, again. "Ask nicely." When I just stared at her, she shrugged. "I've been waiting for you to tell me to stop, but you didn't. I figured you must like it, at least a little. I know how nice compliments and flirting can be from someone you find attractive." I tilted my head and stared incredulously at her. "Don't you? I know you're at least bi."

I screamed, then. A low, guttural sound as I grabbed my hair and tried so hard not to just end something. I took a deep breath and roared out, "I'm. Not. GAY!"

Kara stood there, shell-shocked for a moment as she tried to process that. "But... I've seen you looking. At Amy, at me..." She watched me hyperventilate as I tried to cool down. "You've got to be interested, right?" She took in my grit-toothed glare, full of gushing tears and a drip of snot, and flagged as some realization I couldn't fathom struck her. "OhhhhhhshitI'msosorry." She said, trailing off into a horrified mutter. After a few seconds holding her hands in front of her mouth, she asked, "Who was she?"

I wanted to rage, to lash out, to stay angry, but all I could feel was honest sincerity and shame in her words. I hiccoughed, and started to curl in on myself before she stepped forward to prop me up on her shoulder and lower us to the ground. "Hey," she muttered while I sniffled and snorted, trying to breathe. "hey, it's alright. You're okay. You're going to be fine."

Some distant part of myself wondered how often she'd had to do this, she slipped into the role so well. Somewhere along the way, my phone dinged, but I couldn't care right now. When I felt collected enough, I answered. "My best friend." My voice cracked and croaked with the words. "My only friend."

She took a long, slow inhale, and I heard her mutter 'Ahh, fucked the bitch.' under her breath. "I'm sorry." She said, shaking me slightly to draw me out of my daze. "I didn't know it would hurt you so much. I'm sorry."

I sat there for a while as she stroked my hair, trying to think while the cogs of my mind ground slowly through the thick emotional mud gumming everything up. I sighed, then pushed myself unsteadily to my feet. Kara's hands stayed to my sides in case I needed them, but she otherwise didn't help. She watched me staring off, for a second, before she got to her feet too. "Let's get you cleaned up."

She led me through the mostly-deserted halls to one of Arcadia's bathrooms. Empty at this hour, but Kara still went in first in case she needed to distract someone from my predicament. It was an oddly sweet gesture, compounding on others that refused to add up in my muddled mind. I washed my face, and she offered me makeup. At first I declined, but she offered to fix up my eyes a bit, so my crying wasn't as obvious. I relented after that, and she carefully applied product to my cheeks and nose, and around my eyes. It reminded me of when mom would help me dress up, years ago. The thought almost had me crying again. A couple minutes after we'd started, she proclaimed me done. Aside from some redness in the eyes themselves, I looked fine.

With a sigh, I checked my phone. Three texts from Amy, and one from Vicky.

"I should go." I said, stashing it away again.

"Hey," She said from where she'd leaned against the sinks. I looked back. She felt nervous, wary... but she looked determined. "Whatever you decide about me... don't take it out on them? Please?"

I took a breath, held it while I considered, and let it out. "No more flirting?"

She put her hand over her chest and gave a soft smile. "Promise."

I stared at the hand for a few seconds. She didn't feel like she was lying. I nodded, and left. Once out in the hall, I watched her sigh, rub her face, and mutter something. I was already down the hall when she turned to check her makeup, then check her phone.

I met Amy and Vicky by the front of the school. Vicky waved me over, and they watched me carefully as I made my approach. Once I was there, she smiled and said, "Hey, Taylor. You look, good." I could feel the effort it took her to keep it from being a question. I snorted as Amy rolled her eyes at her sister's words.

"Hey. Can we... just go?" I asked, projecting to keep the words above a mutter.

Amy came over, patted my back, and ran a finger along my neckline while her hand was there. I could tell from the mild tingling that my eyes weren't red anymore.

"Yeah, sure." I could tell she was considering her words while we started toward the parting lot. "The Market okay, or would you rather do something else?" At least she remembered I don't like the Boardwalk very much.

"Yeah, that's fine." I'd feel better once we were there, and moving around, keeping from sitting anywhere too long, felt like it'd keep me from wallowing or passing out from emotional drain. I wanted to be fine. Just needed to take the rest of the day one step at a time.

Avatar Taylor (Worm Quest)

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FRI FEB 18

After the last time we went anywhere together, Vicky made sure she grabbed the car on her way back to Arcadia to pick us up. The ride was quiet, but nice. The radio stayed off, Amy only occasionally pecking away at her phone, Vicky started humming once and I could feel her aura creeping out, but she realized it herself and pulled it back when she suddenly went quiet again. Most of the ride was, at least to me, comfortable silence.

We parked in one of the lots near the market, which used to house buildings, before being destroyed by the gangs or otherwise declared derelict and torn down. This part of the city was nice enough to actually have demolitions work done, but not nice enough for people to bother with rebuilding. The ones on the outskirts of the market proper were marked off with parking spaces, while the few inside were crammed with tents and booths. Even from here I could spy some of the little stands set up on the sidewalks outside the proper stores. Booths and tents paying the shops they're in front of to camp there and hopefully feed off each others' business. The city either didn't see anything wrong with it, or didn't care enough to punish the violations. There was usually just enough space to get by without wandering into the street, but a lot of people just walked in the bike lanes on Lord's Street, ignoring that they were inches from a main through road.

"Oh! I know!" Vicky said as we got out. "We should get food. Start the trip off right."

Amy scoffed. "You just want to get tacos again."

Vicky fisted her hands in front of her wide grin and excitedly whispered, "Tacos..."

The scene was absurd enough to get a chuckle out of me, and I could feel the Dallons cheering up, at having broken through my mood. I didn't mind Mexican, so I just followed along, taking in the sights. Vicky called me a heathen when I ordered a burrito.

The Lord's Street Market was the largest shopping center in the city, though all of them claimed they were. The market won, not by volume or foot traffic, but in sheer density. It had the most 'shops' of any of them, packed into half the space of the Boardwalk. I couldn't remember its proper name because I never went there, but the shopping center near the Towers was the biggest by volume. It really only served the local whites though, being deep in Empire territory. The Boardwalk had the others beat hands-down in foot traffic, though. Being the neutral, non-gang territory, high quality, enforced-by-hired-bouncers tourist-friendly experience that it was.

The Market was technically in Merchant territory, though no one seemed to care. Some of the shops hired a handful of the Boardwalk's Enforcers and security guards to keep the peace, but most of the work was done by police stationed in the area.

Some of the stands looked like you'd combined a garage sale with a farmer's market. People selling off anything they could to get by, or get out. Most of the stands had themes; bags, trinkets, soaps, food... anything that could be made from home. The restaurants in the area had mostly been driven out by the convenience of the food stands dotting the sidewalk; There was Vicky's taco stand, a hotdog vendor, what looked like Italian noodles, and a couple Asian stands, from what I could see where we'd stopped to eat. I could feel more of them a ways down out of sight, and past the curve in the road to match the waterfront, but couldn't tell exactly what they served from just that.

After food, we wandered a bit. Amy and I followed Vicky mostly. Pausing to peruse trinkets or sniff beauty products, heading in to the occasional thrift store. I actually found a few things I liked in a second-hand clothing store. I found the stand Amy had bought my masks at, mostly a few tables full of ceramic utensils like bowls and plates, with the occasional flower vase or urn. One of the walls was hung with masks though, and I could feel spare stock under the tables. For what looked like some guy making things in his basement to sell, the quality was surprising. I rather deliberately had us not stop in there, though. No need to connect myself and Amy, if he recognized her.

The real gem though, was a stand selling stereotypically 'oriental' nick-knacks. Paper wall scrolls, some candles, jars of loose tea, a few rolled up wooden mats...

And fans.

They were cheap things, just wood and paper with some words or drawings on, but I saw them and something clicked. I remembered the airbenders in my dreams, and knew it didn't matter how long they'd last if I just got a box of the things, expecting them to break. So I bought ten of the things. Enough to practice with, maybe use in a fight, prove to myself that they worked, and whether I should look into better ones.

The rest of the time proceeded the same. I was mostly stuck in burnt-out autopilot along for the ride, unless something caught my attention, or the sisters did something else to pry a reaction out of me, or Vicky's aura slipped. It was a nice trip, with the two of them taking the brunt of the social callings and letting me just... be, outside in my own little bubble for a few hours. We stopped for food again a couple hours after dark, some Greek wrap stand at the other end of the market. Then we meandered back to the car, pleasantly full and cheerful enough that I actually chimed in a couple times without being prompted to, which the Dallons were happy about.

It was half past nine when they dropped me off at home. I was in a better mood, but still exhausted. So I skipped homework- I had the whole weekend after all- and went straight for a shower and my bed.

SAT FEB 19

I got up around my normal time, despite getting to bed earlier than usual. Now that I thought about it, it was a little weird that I'd been doing fine on six or seven hours every night, when I used to sleep at least ten if I was allowed to. Then I remembered some capes didn't need to sleep at all thanks to their powers, and shrugging my sleep habits off with 'Powers did it' stopped seeming so far-fetched.

Light exercise this morning since I didn't want to need a shower, or show up smelling at Dinah's, then I called to let them know I was on the way over. Dad was already up, so he dropped me off at the Alcott's. He promised to stop for breakfast somewhere before stopping by work to put out any fires there, then he was planning to hang out with some of the guys. It was nice to see dad excited about socializing, again.

So, I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Cheryl answered again, inviting me in excitedly. Dinah was already at the table when we got there, along with her father. "Dinah, Taylor's here!" She said, happily. Once we were seated, she continued. "Tell her how your classes have been."

Dinah looked slightly mortified to be put on the spot, but the shy girl coughed and fidgeted her way to speaking. "I've... um. Been having a lot less headaches." She fidgeted again, picking at her food. "Been studying easier without the headaches. Catching up."

I waited half a beat to tell if she was going to keep talking before I said, "That's great, Dinah!"

She blushed and hunched a bit, curling to hide. Her mother happily chimed in, in her place. "It's so nice seeing her enjoy life more, without it affecting her studies." Her husband grunted his agreement.

Honestly I was starting to feel... really awkward, sitting here in the middle of this. All the happy gushing and implied praise felt... wrong. I hadn't helped that much, after all. "That's great. I'm happy for her." I wasn't sure what else I could say, but apparently that was enough.

Dinah started talking about her specific classes at her mother's prodding, which filled the silence until mr Alcott had to leave for work. We were shuffled off to Dinah's room as soon as we finished eating.

I watched Dinah fidget for a second before I plopped down on her bed. "So, your headaches are better?"

She perked up, almost startled. "Yes! Thank you."

I shrugged. "What'd I do?"

"98% chance meeting Taylor led to my headaches getting better." Dinah said, suddenly and a touch mechanically. "95% chance Taylor had something to do with my headaches getting better."

"...huh." That was actually somewhat frightening. What the hell happened? "I don't... think I actually did anything?" I thought for a second. "I know I didn't mean to do anything." Now that sounded bad... "I mean, I didn't think I could do anything!"

"It's... fine." Dinah said, affecting a shy smile. "I'm just happy my head's better."

I slowly nodded. "And nothing else has changed? Nothing you're worried about?"

She shook her head, then paused. "No, but I'm not getting decimal places anymore." She pondered in a several second pause before continuing. "Like, uhh, a question that used to give 78.984% just gives 75% now."

So, less accurate? It still sounded incredibly useful, though. "And the headaches are gone?"

Dinah shook her head again. She wasn't looking at me, and I wondered if that helped her anxiety. "No, it just takes a lot more questions for them to start. Like, before I'd get to six or seven questions and my head would start to hurt. More than a dozen and I'd need to come home from school. Too many more, and I'd have headaches for days." That was terrible. I know I'd never get through a day without at least that many percentile questions asked at me. She must have been more miserable than I'd thought... "Now I can get fifty questions, easily. More if they're simple ones."

"That's great!" I was honestly happy for her. That sounded much better for surviving a school day.

She nodded happily. "I know. Now I can be useful to your team."

My smile froze, and dropped. "Hey, you know I didn't care about that. I just wanted to help."

"87% chance you're being honest." She said with a nod. "I just... want to be useful." She curled up on herself a bit.

I got up and hugged her to my side with an arm while she stayed sitting. She flinched a bit from the contact, but I persisted, and she relaxed into the embrace. "You're already the whole reason I'm starting a team. It wouldn't be happening without you."

"55% chance you're just trying to make me feel better."

Dear god this was going to get annoying quick, if she kept doing that. "Is it working?"

She rubbed at her eyes. "A little, yeah."

"Just because I said it to make you feel better, doesn't mean it isn't true." And now to nip a habit in the bud... "And you should avoid second-guessing people with your powers out loud, you don't want to get used to it, then slip and start doing it at school or something."

"84% ch-er..." She shyly curled up under my arm. "...you're right."

I lifted the arm from her shoulder to pat her head. She squirmed a little, but didn't protest further. Then I went back to sitting. "Now I just need to find more capes for the team..."

"90% chance we'll have three members by the end of next week." Dinah said, not looking up from her desk. "25% chance we'll have four members by the end of the month. 77% chance we'll have four in two weeks."

Wait, "Seriously?" She nodded. "Huh. That's... really surprising."

"It shouldn't be." She said, more firmly than anything she'd said today. "40% chance even the gangs want the city to be better."

A bit of a sobering thought, that. But it made sense for the Empire, at least. Better city proves having them around is a 'good' thing. More money in the city might make the ABB racketeering more profitable, too. Really the only gang that relied on the city being a shithole were the Merchants.

I sighed. "I hope you're right."

She finally looked up from her desk at that, to give me an incredulous look that said 'Of course I am, my powers said so.' and had me giggling at how cute she looked when confused.

"It's fine, it's okay." I said through the dying chuckles. "We should probably get started on schoolwork, though."

After that, we got started on schoolwork, spending a little time brainstorming how to use her power to help with studying and getting answers, because why wouldn't we, since it was an option now? A quick lunch was had, before we got back to work for another couple hours, during which I made sure I had Dinah's personal number, and that it was okay for me to check on her now and then. After that, though?

"You're leaving?" Cheryl asked, sounding a touch disappointed.

I shrugged. "Dinah's catching up just fine, now. There wasn't as much to work on this week." Which was actually true. "If you still want me to come by in a week or two, we're going to need to start working on getting her ahead in classes, just for something to do."

She hummed thoughtfully. "That would be rather nice, actually. She was already being tutored to get ahead before all this started... maybe the stress was getting to her?" She wondered out loud. She shook her head. "Oh well, it's fine. Here you go, dear." I was offered a pair of crisp bills, the same amount as last time despite 'working' fewer hours. "Do call if next weekend doesn't work for whatever reason."

I agreed and headed off, detouring north a bit to Captain's Hill on the way home. It was a nice enough day, and I felt like taking the walk. I'd seen the view of the city from the hill dozens of times, but it was nice to visit once in a while.

After basking in the Bay's lopsided skyline for a few minutes, I kept heading north, to the edge of the park where I could find some bus stops. To my surprise, there seemed to be a small crowd milling about near the road. As I got closer I noticed two bright spots of color at its center.

Assault and Battery.

What the hell? First Militia and Velocity, then Militia and Triumph, then Dauntless and Armsmaster -though they hardly counted, since I was masked at the time- but now Assault and Battery? If I walked over now, I could honestly tell dad and Amy I'd met the city's entire Protectorate roster.

In a fit of whimsy, I decided I really should.

I made my way over. There were just a couple dozen people, mostly park-goers, but also the odd business type from one of the nearby offices, or people who stopped their cars nearby to meet the heroes. Most of them had the two sign something, and then backed off, but enough were crowding nearby that it was a tad intimidating. Still, I soldiered on, making my way into their path, rather than trying to push into the throng. A few minutes later, they'd started moving again, and came to where I was standing.

"Hello, there!" Assault said, moving ahead to engage me directly while Battery was waylaid by a pair of girls who looked younger than me. "Did you have something you wanted signed, too?"

I froze, digging around in my pockets for a second. The only things I really had on me were my wallet, the money in it, my phone, pepper spray, and...

The man actually snorted when I pulled the baton Jake had given me from my pocket and held it up.

He uncapped a black permanent marker, scribbled his name on the handle, and nudged Battery. She took one look at the thing and failed to completely stifle a groan. Still, she took the marker and baton, and scribbled her name down, too. "Some sense of humor you've got there, kid." Assault said as he handed the baton back.

I hardly wanted to be called 'kid' anymore, so... "Taylor." I said, holding out my hand.

He raised his, paused partway, and gave me a quick curious look over. "...Hebert?"

What the actual fuck?

I drew my hand back. "Yeeees?" I asked nervously.

Battery sighed, slapped her partner upside the head, and moved so she was the closer of the two. "Sorry about him, some paperwork crossed through our department recently, and you were mentioned." While that gave me a reason I was recognized, it still didn't stop the panic and anxiety welling up from it. At least she just felt honestly exasperated, instead of any number of more worrying internal tells. "You don't have to worry, you're hardly in trouble or anything."

I relaxed a bit when my senses couldn't detect any falsehood. Still, no Wards pitch? Maybe they didn't know who I was. ...or maybe there were too many people around, I decided after a quick glance around. Still, no sense offending them. I shook her offered hand, and Assault's after. I felt like I had more of their attention than anyone else in the crowd, even after they'd told me to have a nice day and started on their way. I stood there, not sure what to think or do, as they steadily increased the distance between us.

I heaved in a calming breath. Not much I could do, if they knew more than I wanted them to. Still, kinda' weird they're so far from the boardwalk. As I thought about it on the way to the bus stop, I glanced around. We were only a few blocks away from territory disputed by the gangs, so I suppose it made sense they'd patrol here, on the nicer Empire side of it, if only to show they were around.

The bus and walk home were quiet. The house was empty, but that wasn't unexpected. I gathered up some gear, most importantly the fans, along with my masks, both ceramic and domino. All kitted up in nondescript baggy clothes and double-masked, I made my way up to the Trainyard far faster on foot than I'd manage with the bus.

The first thing I did was experiment with the fans. I could tell using them improved my airbending quite a bit for gusts and bursts, but not so much with trying to slash. After breaking two of them with my experimenting, I decided I really did need better ones.

After that, I went back to training earthbending for the next few hours.

I was cooking dinner when a car came by, and dad got out, followed by someone familiar. The car was, too, now that I thought about it. Still, wasn't odd enough to make me stop when they let themselves in and came into the kitchen.

"That smells great, honey." Dad said as he came to check on me.

"Mr Dallon?" I asked, recognizing the man who'd followed dad in.

"Mark, please, Taylor." He insisted as he took a seat at the table with dad.

I almost jumped straight to questions, but propriety must. "Anything to drink? I can have tea or coffee going, and we've got some milk and juice."

He hummed. "Tea would be nice, actually."

I could tell dad was slightly tipsy, so after starting the kettle, I grabbed him a glass of water. "So, what's going on?"

Mark chuckled. "Well, your father invited me out to drinks with some of his co-workers, and I decided to go." He shrugged. "I don't drink, so I offered to drive."

"Usually handle that." Dad said. "Nice change of pace." There was silence for a beat before he chuckled. "Still can't believe how long it took anyone to recognize you."

Mark snickered a bit, too. "Well, you did just introduce me as 'Mark, your daughter's friend's dad'. I'm not too surprised."

They kept chatting about things that'd happened while they were out, ostensibly to inform me, but not really pulling me into the conversation. I was fine with it, while I waited for the water to boil and checked the food. Tea was had, even though dad didn't drink much of his. Mark talked about being surprised at having to break up a couple bar fights, while dad remarked on how few that was, compared to usual. Eventually dinner was almost ready, and I offered Mark some, if he wanted to stay.

He declined, saying he could be getting home. So dad and I ate, and I told him about having met all of the Protectorate capes in the city. He thought the story was more funny than worrying, but I chalked that up to the lingering booze.

After homework, I turned in early. I had a meeting tomorrow morning, after all.

Avatar Taylor (Worm Quest)

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Threadmarks Chapter 1.14 (Haggling) New

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#113

SUN FEB 20

I woke up early, 5am today, to get ready to head out. The text that'd given me the time also came with the explanation that some people were getting off night shifts, and others had day shifts to get to. The early morning or late evening was when the largest number of people I'd want to meet could be around. I'm pretty sure she just didn't want to potentially cut into my sleep on a school night.

I'd almost finished grabbing things for the trip over, when I spotted the pack of domino masks in my bag, and I realized I'd nearly missed something important. So I grabbed my phone and made a call.

"Taylor? Something wrong?" Sue asked after she picked up.

"I... should I wear a mask?" I asked hesitantly.

I could almost see her face scrunching up in confused consternation. "Why ask me? It's up to you. They know they're meeting a hero cape, but I haven't given any names yet." I let out a breath, and she continued when I didn't speak up. "People are going to figure it out either way, but they won't say anything." Ugh. What was even the point of a secret identity!?

"...Thanks, I guess." There must have been more despondency in my voice than I'd intended to let through, because she sighed.

"Not going to say some of our boys aren't idiots- you've met Jake- but they're not stupid. We don't let anyone in this close if we think they can't keep a secret."

"Hell of a job I've done keeping mine..." I muttered angrily, more at myself than anyone else.

Sue chuffed a stifled chuckle. "Taylor, secrets always end in one of two ways. Either everyone who knows it dies, or it will come out, eventually. Always, always, plan for both."

That made sense, but I still rubbed my face and sighed. How to plan for winding up outed? What would happen if I died and it didn't matter anymore? "Thanks, I guess."

"You do you, whichever you choose." Sue said, and I heard the creaking of an old chair through the phone. "Need to meet some people. Talk to you soon."

I managed a quick 'bye' before she hung up, then stared at my phone for a minute. I glanced at the closet, where I'd hidden my ceramic masks, and where I was planning to stash my costumes when I had them. After a bit more pondering, I shuffled over and grabbed one, along with a spare nondescript hoodie to change into. Even if I'd probably be outed eventually, I still wanted to keep my secrets as long as I could.

Those shoved into my bag, I headed out. About halfway to the stop, my phone started ringing. To my surprise, it was Dinah. "Hello?"

"Hey, Taylor." She said, somewhat groggily. It was just after six, so that was as expected in someone her age at this hour, but begged the question of why she was even up yet, on a weekend.

"Hey. You okay? Why are you calling so early?"

"10% chance we'll be overheard if I call now."

Oookay? "Isn't that bad?"

She made a light startled noise. "Oh, oh no! It's actually really good for this sort of thing." She stuttered out. "I just mean, it was 30% ten minutes ago, and it seemed... uhm..."

I took a deep breath, really not liking that 10% was good odds for not being overheard, but I couldn't sense anyone nearby... maybe phone taps or recordings? I shook my head, no sense worrying about it now. "It's okay. What did you want to talk about? And why are you even up so early?"

She gave a slightly frustrated groan, the most hostile sound I'd ever heard from her. "Have to go to church."

"Oh. I'm sorry?" I hadn't even known the Alcotts were religious. Then again, I had no idea what to look for when I wasn't being proselytized at.

Dinah sighed. "It's... it's okay." She took a breath and continued. "There's a 75% chance you'll be in a fight today. 90% chance it's this afternoon."

Wait, what? "Are you-" No, of course she was sure. "You ask those sorts of questions about me?"

"I- I'm sorry, should I not? I just... wanted to help?" Oh geez, kicked the puppy...

"No, you're fine, I'm just a little surprised. I didn't think to ask you to."

That seemed to calm her down a bit. "I... didn't think to until yesterday, either. I'm sorry."

I stifled a sigh. We really needed to work on her confidence... More problems for later. "You don't mind, though? It would be pretty useful knowing if trouble's on the way."

"Oh, no! I don't mind at all." Dinah said quickly. "I've only used about ten questions so far today, that's easy now."

I nodded to myself. Even on a school day, that'd probably be manageable. "Do you mind if I ask a few?"

"Go ahead." She actually sounded a little eager. Probably that desire to prove useful. I felt a little bad taking advantage of that, but she was offering...

"Am I going to be ambushed somehow? Do I have to worry about something happening on the way somewhere, or just when I'm training later today?" I'd already had my training plans set in my head since yesterday, so if something happened this afternoon, that'd be when.

It took her a few seconds. "76% chance of ambush, 10% chance of a fight while you're traveling to a destination, 80% chance while training."

That was good to know. But thinking about it, if I had Dinah on the line already... I paused my trek towards the bus. "I have a meeting with some people about team stuff this morning... do you mind me asking about that?"

"No, it's fine. They've all been easy questions so far." There was some hesitance creeping into her voice, so I'd have to keep this short. Try to limit it to two or three more, at most.

"Alright. What are the chances hostilities break out at my meeting this morning?" Sorry, Sue. Trust, but verify.

"12%"

Not as low as I'd hoped, but still pretty good. "I'm negotiating a deal. What are the chances things go well if I just offer everything I can think of, and ask for everything I've thought of, and whatever they offer?"

She let out a displeased hum. I wasn't sure if it was the complicated wording, or if her power was having more trouble with it than the others. "80% chance things turn out okay."

For a second, I considered asking more questions, but decided against it. "Thank you, Dinah. That's all for now."

"Are you sure?" She asked hesitantly. "I can handle more."

"I don't want to get into the habit of leaning on you too hard." I explained, starting my walk again. "You're probably going to add more questions to your regular routine as the team grows, right?"

"Well..." She trailed off into hesitant noises.

"See? I don't want you hurting yourself. Don't worry, I really do have everything I need to know right now."

"Are you really-?" There was a muffled voice cutting into Dinah's continued insistence on helping. I heard her sigh. "It's breakfast. I... have to go. Call me later? After... you know?"

After the fight, so she'd know I was alright. "Yeah, I can do that. No problem."

Two brief goodbyes later, and I sped my walking back to normal speed, to wind up at the bus stop less than a minute later. That bus took me to the hub near the boardwalk, where I caught the connection heading south. I got off a few blocks from Sue's, ducking into a sketchy alley my powers told me was empty, and changed hoodies. Then I strapped on the masks, drew the hood up to cover them from most angles, and packed up my bag. I hopped up onto a dumpster and jumped up, kicking off the walls of the alleyway until I was rolling to a stop on the roof of a currently-empty and probably unused building. I found a place to stash my bag up there, behind some air units that looked like they needed a tuneup before anyone should risk turning them on, and made my way down the fire escape on the other side of the building. From there, it was just a matter of keeping my head down on the walk to the tenement.

I pressed the door buzzer like last time, but this time the woman waited until she had checked the door before the intercom crackled. "Yes?"

Fighting down a fidget, I turned my masked face fully to the small camera. "I'm... Terraform." I hated the small stutter. I should practice introducing myself in front of a mirror or something. "I'm here to meet..." well, it wasn't like anyone listening wouldn't know who lived here... "To meet with Sue's... group?" What did they even call themselves? I should have asked!

I could feel her hand drift away from her gun as she sighed. It felt like she was muttering to herself, but with the com off, I couldn't hear it. The door clicked a few times as locks were unlatched, and the door opened.

"Get in." She grumbled. I hopped to it, waited for her to re-lock the door, and followed her up. The silent judgment was excruciatingly awkward, but there wasn't much I could do about it.

The first thing I noticed when I got to the room was that Jake, Sue, and... I think door-woman's name is Minnie? Weren't the only people I recognized. One of the chairs- which had been pulled out from the table and spread around the room- was occupied by Gerard, messing with his phone.

There were three people I didn't know, though. The one that was actually seated looked a little older than me, maybe early twenties. His clothes were thick and stained, his hair matted up like it was halfway towards a terrible attempt at dreadlocks, his eyes unfocused until he noticed me. Then they sharpened in my direction as he gave a sleazy grin and a small wave. The closer of the two standing was a svelte blonde woman around my height, with hair just past her shoulders, and hard ice-blue eyes. The conversation she was having with Jake petered to a halt when we entered. The last was the second-oldest person in the room, after Sue. He was white, looked to be in his mid-to-late 40s, and had short salt-and-pepper hair that looked like it was probably light brown, a decade ago. Of all those here, he seemed the most hostile, not bothering to hide the soft glare aimed my way.

A few moments of letting everyone acclimate to my presence, Sue spoke up from her thick-padded chair in the little 'entertainment' nook, with the TV and couch. "Hello, there..." She paused. "Have you chosen a name yet, dear?"

I was sure she already knew my cape name, but was pulling me into the conversation, giving me the chance to introduce myself, instead of being introduced. "Uhm. Hi. I'm Terraform. It's nice to meet you." I said to the group.

The younger woman I didn't know perked up at that. She came a little closer, moving with a confident but elegant stride I wished I could match. She was wearing tight jeans and a nice blouse under one of those thin jackets with a high bottom hem, to show off the wearer's butt and a bit of waist from behind.

I was jealous, and had no idea what to do about it.

"Oh! Terraform!" She held out her hand when she got to me. "It's nice to meet you in person."

That implied we'd interacted in some way, and she did sound familiar, but... it took a second to click. "Dispatch lady?" I asked, incredulously.

There was silence for a beat before Jake burst into laughter, Gerard and the boy followed by snickering. The woman's smile had grown strained, but she chuckled anyway. "Yeah, that about sums up my life, right now."

"Aww, don't worry Barbie, they'll let you shoot gangers eventually." Jake called, once his laughter had died down.

"Shut up." She half-heartedly growled, before offering her hand to shake, again. "Sally Barr, BBPD."

I took the hand out of reflex, but cringed back a little anyway. "You're... a cop?" I asked hesitantly. It wasn't bad that she was a police officer, just... very confusing. She certainly didn't look like the stereotypical butch beat cop that popped to mind when I thought of female officers. "Why are you... here?"

Sue snorted. "What, you thought we were one of those criminal gangs?"

"Only a little..." Jake muttered from the other side of the room, setting off Gerard and the boy I didn't know, again.

The fact that no one seemed put off or pinging my lie detection about the implied criminal activity and ganghood was... mildly startling, but I could deal with it. You just didn't make it out of your teenaged years being a lily-white snowflake in the Bay. I've known that for years.

She dropped my hand with a chuckle. "They're kind of the reason I became a cop." I leaned back a little, tilting my head and raising an eyebrow, though they couldn't see that part. "Oh, not like that. Dad's been on the force since before I was born. They," She indicated the group around us. "got me out of a pretty bad situation, and pushed me to do more with myself. So I decided to try and clean up the city, like dad wanted to do." She gave a helpless shrug and a sigh. "But he's been throwing his weight around to keep me from really helping at all, 'for my safety'. Dispatch and investigations are important work, but I'd kill for an actual patrol once in a while."

"Now that you've met Barbie," Jake cut in, causing Sally to whine and motion something violent in his direction, to which he backed off and chuckled. "You already know me and Sue, and Gerard too, I guess." That got him a flipped bird from across the room. "Minnie you've met, but I don't think you've been introduced." I turned, to see what I expected from my senses- the door woman staring at me with narrowed eyes. "This is Su-Min. She doesn't like new people, but I'm sure she'll warm up to you eventually."

She muttered something, Given that I didn't know of anywhere else in that part of Asia that did the hyphen-sounding names, it was probably Korean.

Everyone ignored that, though. "This is Arthur," Jake continued, and I turned back. He indicated the older man, who tilted his head a bit in acknowledgment. "and Vincent." He nodded to the grungy boy.

"Call me Vinnie." He said, with what he probably thought was a winning smile. He didn't look like a Vinnie. At all. His voice was a little deeper than I expected, but I was sure he was the youngest here, aside from myself. From the eyerolls around the room, I decided it was probably alright to just ignore what he'd said.

"Sooo...?" I muttered quietly, trying to move things along.

Sue shrugged. "All of us want the city to be better, but we're not agreed on which is the best way to do it, or even if it can be done. Enough of us wanted to help you that we're here now to see what that might look like." She leaned forward and indicated the room with a wave of her hand. "This is most of what we can bring to the table. Our best informants on the gangs in the city, our management, maintenance, and supplies, all here."

"It's not much," Jake said, breaking some of the growing tension. "but what we've got, we've got."

I wasn't sure I actually knew what I was doing, here. I knew they were a proper group, with time to establish themselves, manpower, an actual group structure, but seeing it staring -or glaring, in a couple cases- me down was something else entirely. I felt like a little kid asking the adults for something, and I hated it. I took a breath, pushing that anger and frustration away. "Well, my team is just myself and a thinker so far," I remembered Sue's advice about keeping the specifics of thinker powers obscure. "but we're pretty sure we'll have more members over the next few weeks. That's actually part of what I wanted to bring up with you." I took another fortifying breath, trying to make it less obvious than it felt. "I don't actually know where any of the independent capes around town are. I've heard they tend to be 'vaguely south' but nothing besides that, so far." I gulped a little bit, the room wasn't impressed, not uninterested, but I didn't feel much excitement or other strong emotional shifting. "We're not nothing yet, though. I'm pretty versatile, as far as capes go. I haven't had much in the way of fights to tell how strong I am, but I'm pretty sure I'm good there, too."

"What powers do you have?" The older man asked. I hadn't expected Arthur to speak up, especially not so diplomatically, considering what I could see and feel.

"Classical elements." I said, glad to be back on familiar ground. "Earth, Fire, Water, Air. The only one I can make is fire, but I can control the others really well." There was that bloom of awe around the room I was looking for. I could only see it on Sally, Vincent, and Gerard, but I could feel heartbeats picking up and breath halting around the room. "Like I said, very versatile. I'm hoping to do some construction when I'm not doing proper Hero things."

"Like what?" Gerard asked, leaning closer.

"Well, I've already fixed up the roads a bit at one of my fights..." Need to remember to go back to the others and fix them too, if the roads were still messed up. "but I'm pretty sure I can control wet concrete, collapse stone buildings safely, dig out foundations, dig spaces under foundations... the water table here doesn't allow for too much downward digging, but I only need a couple meters to dig out a bolthole or a secret base."

Glances were shared between the group, but I let them have their silent conversation. "That... sounds very useful." Arthur said after a moment.

I nodded. "There's also a bunch of old sewers and storm drains that aren't in use anymore. Collapsed, flooded, some of the new system is just built through the old one, walling it off..." I shrugged. "Anyway, I'm going to start healing at the hospital sometimes, too. When my costume's done."

"You're a healer?" Jake asked, and I could feel his hand gripping at his injured leg outside my normal range of vision.

"Oh, right. Yeah." I'd kind of forgotten he was hurt, honestly. "You want me to take care of that for you?"

His throat bobbed a bit as he nervously swallowed. "Yeah, that'd be pretty cool."

I motioned him to scoot away from the table a bit, and the chair he was in squealed on the floor as he put an extra foot between them and turned to open up more space. "Could someone get me some water? Tap's fine." Arthur, being the closest to the kitchenette, made his way in and came back a few moments later with a glass of water. I startled him a bit, pulling the water into the air and over towards myself before he could cross the room with it. "Pull up your pants?" I asked as I started kneading the blob of water between my hands, focusing energy into it and causing it to glow.

Jake did so, and I found exactly what I expected. A graze by his shin, making it hard for him to put weight on the leg. I just ignored the bandages, letting the water soak through them as I started working on it. "This is going to take a while. Part of why I wanted to do the hospital thing was to get more practice..." It was a little awkward bending over like this, so I hooked another chair with my leg and pulled it over, setting his foot on it and starting back on the injury. "I'm pretty sure I'll get better with time and practice. Right now I'm limited to bruises, scratches, maybe helping with broken bones a little... surface level stuff." Everyone was watching with varying levels of interest, awe, and trepidation. "Still, half an hour to heal a gunshot's way better than half a year." That was about the right timescale, right? I knew holes like proper gunshot wounds didn't go away in less than a month unless you were some sort of regenerator. I'd never looked into it, but the couple brief nods from around the room made me think my ballpark guess was close enough.

I took a deep breath after another half a minute of working on healing, splitting my attention a bit. "So, we have a thinker, and I can do construction and combat, and a bit of healing... depending on who else we can get to join up, we might have more that we can do. Was there anything else you had in mind for things you wanted us to do?"

There was another beat full of glances before Sue shrugged. "The groups we have the least amount of information on are the PRT and Protectorate. We can plan around the gangs most days, but sometimes a hero raid catches us out. We've lost good people over the years in the crossfire, there."

I took a bit to think on it. Really, without joining the Wards, I had no idea what sort of information I could even get from the PRT or Protectorate. But as long as it didn't get back to the gangs, I couldn't see a reason not to share whatever I did find out. "I'll see what I can do. Not sure it'll be much as an independent, though."

Sue chuckled. "I think you're underestimating the value of gossip, dear."

I shrugged. That sounded like one of those things a normal teenaged girl high school experience would teach, rather than what I got. I pushed the feelings down with a deep breath as I kept working. Getting moody over Winslow wouldn't help at all, here. "So, you have information on the gangs?"

My eyes were focused on my healing, but I could feel Sue nod. "We don't have many people infiltrated into the gangs, most of what we get is from eavesdropping, overhearing things, interactions with people who are in the gangs..." She shrugged.

"I get a lot of our Empire information." Gerard cut in. "It's pretty amazing what people say when the only folks around are blonde, blue-eyed, white men." He gave a rueful chuckle and a shake of his head. "I also try to keep an eye out for the DWA, make sure nothing they have going on is going to step on any toes. Everyone's pretty good at that already though, especially the people in charge." Aaand yup. He probably already suspected I was Danny's daughter. Fantastic.

Sally chimed in, over my shoulder. "I mostly just drop info where it needs to go, when we find something the police can actually act on." I could tell her eyes were on the glowing water under my hands. She was watching warily, shuddering a little with an involuntary shiver, rubbing her arms and biting at her lip while she thought I couldn't see it. "I also run relay with the PRT sometimes. They take things a little more seriously when PD dispatch hands info over, and don't tend to follow up on where we got it, if it's good." She shrugged, close enough I'd hear the rustle of her clothes even if I couldn't 'see' her. "Not that we have info on gang capes very often..."

A couple beats later, Vincent coughed. "So uhh, we goin' around, then?" Sue tilted her head in a half-shrug. She might have motioned to him and I just hadn't noticed. "Well, I'm pretty chummy with a bunch of the Merchant dealers. They know me, I know them, we talk, it's all good."

Wait... "You do drugs?" My hands paused and the glow dimmed.

He scoffed. "It's like buying a Nazi a drink. You shoot up with your dealer, they'll tell you anything. Don't knock it 'till you try it, babe." He gave me a saucy smile and a wink.

Was he... holy shit I think he was. "I am fifteen." I spat with perhaps more venom than needed. So much eww.

Watching him choke on his spit was pretty satisfying, though. "Never mind, then." I heard him mutter something about 'jailbait' under his breath, but chose to ignore it. Jake, Sally, and Gerard were chuckling a little at his fumbling, in different ways.

"I, uhh..." Jake rubbed his head as I got back to healing him. "I actually... kinda... run drugs for the ABB." He muttered that last part quietly, but I still heard it.

...and might have frozen the water to his leg. "What?" I hissed.

He sucked in a breath at the figurative and literal chill, "Hey, it's not as bad as you think."

I stood up, the chair I'd been sitting at skidding back a little. "Not that bad? You're a literal gangster!"

Jake took a deeper breath and took a glance around the room. My eyes followed as his went. Sue did her half-shrug head tilt, Arthur actually shrugged, Vincent didn't seem to care, but he wouldn't. Gerard was stoic, and Sally looked a little sad. "Look... kid." I could tell he wanted to use my name, but didn't. "It's just part of how the world works. If I didn't do it, they'd find someone who would. Always another cartel to buy from, and half a dozen guys to call to get whatever the gangs want. So long as there's a buyer, there will be people selling and transporting shit." He was getting a bit heated now, but I didn't back down. "At least this way I can use their drug money against them, get an in to get information from them. I know where they keep their drugs, I know where most of their brothels are, where some of their gun stashes are. We can use that." He leaned back in his chair. "It's just a fact. If the gangs want drugs, they'll get their drugs."

"...mostly from the Merchants." Vincent sniped.

"Shut up." Jake hissed at him.

"What?" the boy smiled, hands raised in an overacted shrug. "Lung doesn't care where the drugs his people resell comes from."

"I just don't think the politics of it helps my point any." Jake groused, which caused Vincent to shrug and go back to his phone. He turned back to me. "I know you don't like it, but sometimes people do the wrong thing for the right reasons. The second you think you can take out Lung, I'll be there to point you right at him." He sighed, looked down, and made a vague waving gesture off to the side, further towards ABB territory. "But I can't do that without having an in to get that information. If I press, I can get just about anything I want to know, but I do that too often and they'll catch on."

I thought on it. I hated it, but it made some sense. "You'll stop when they're gone?"

He shrugged and smiled. "Never wanted to, just too good an in to pass up." He wasn't lying, as far as I could tell. Another few moments of stewing on it, I nodded and sat back down, unfreezing the ice and sparking up the glow again. "That... really stung a lot, you know." He muttered.

"Sorry." I sighed out. I gave it a few minutes, people either waiting in the semi-tense silence or taking the time to peck away at their phones while I kept stitching the wound back together. Eventually I got tired of it, and turned first to Su-Min, then to Arthur. "So, what do you do?"

They looked at each other, and Arthur shrugged, going first. "Arthur Kent: Graves shift Custodial lead; Medhall."

I didn't mean any offense, but... "Why does that matter?"

He shrugged. "CEO's Kaiser."

"...what?" I hissed. I surely hadn't heard that right.

Arthur nodded to himself, his hands twitching in a way that was familiar in smokers desperate to relieve stress by lighting up, supported by the pack I could tell was in his back pocket. He tapped his fingers on his thigh instead, shaking his head before he nodded more firmly. "CEO is Kaiser."

He certainly seemed to believe it. "Why would you say that? Why tell me that? Doesn't that break... all the rules?" I was actually starting to freak out a bit, now.

He shrugged again. "Rules are bullshit, and everyone knows it." His fingers tapped out another pattern. "The gangs have ways around them." He raised his hands to list off numbers. "No one can care if you're not caught, even if you do get caught you can just throw out a scapegoat, the rules are a bit fuzzier when it's normals like me breaking them anyway, and there are people that the rules don't apply to either way like the Nine, or people strong enough to openly skirt them and get away with it like Lung..." He threw his hands up and shook his head. "And if the PRT decides to cover it up, none of that shit matters anyway." He gave it a second, while he took a deeper breath. "The rules just don't matter as much as you think they do, kid."

I let that sink in a bit, as I focused back on healing. Again, he seemed to believe everything he was saying. He was angry, frustrated with the system, with the city, with the rules. I was pretty sure he was one of the people Sue'd said agreed with her, that the city couldn't be fixed. That it was best to do what they could to get as many people to leave as possible. He was probably throwing this in my face to show me how insurmountable it was. I knew the E88 were entrenched, but running one of the biggest job-makers in the city? The richest company based solely in the bay? It was pretty scary. "And what do you do with that job?" I asked, finally.

He nodded, like I'd passed some test. "I'm high enough in the system that I can keep track of when the boss blocks himself out as 'busy', or when his favorite flunkies are given 'days off' to take care of whatever they have planned. I've been around since before Allfather had his 'tragic accident'..." he actually finger-quoted it and simpered the words. "so no one suspects it, as far as I can tell. I could try to slip recording devices or something in to meetings, but that'd end bad real quick." He shook his head. "Nah, my thing's eyes-on. ...plus I like to keep some bunkers around town, just in case. Bit of a hobby, y'see." I guess I could, yeah. Could never be too prepared around Brockton. "Hope you don't mind too much me not telling you where they are, being anti-parahuman bunkers and all, and... well..." He gave a shrug, without seeming sorry at all about it.

"Ah." I succinctly summed my feelings with a click of my tongue. Still, I suppose I couldn't fault the guy for feeling outgunned against the Empire.

It was almost another half-minute before Sue cut in. "Su-Min..." She said, indicating the woman, who nodded. "Takes care of the building, and keeps in contact with everyone while I'm busy or working." Made sense, to have someone like that around. I wasn't sure I liked that it was someone so hostile, but I could deal with a bit of bitchiness. I nodded to indicate I'd heard, and kept working. A bit more time passed, and she asked, "Was there anything else you wanted our help with?"

I stopped to think, mostly to make sure I wasn't forgetting anything. "Yeah." I nodded. "Materials. Gear. Anything you can manage. It's usually a tinker thing, people getting outed by the trail getting their gear leaves, but that can happen for other types of capes, too. And if we ever did get a tinker, we'd need to get them stuff to work with, without throwing up signs screaming where to find them." A tinker would be fantastic, but I didn't have high hopes of it. They were just too high-demand for one to fall into my lap before someone else snatched them up.

Everyone seemed to think on it, even Vincent was staring slightly above his phone at the wall in thought. Gerard muttered "Wouldn't mind some Tinkertech..." loud enough for everyone to hear, and for him to get a few affirmative grunts in agreement.

Sue glanced around, taking in the mood of the group, and nodded. "We don't have much to spare, but we do have some experience with supply chains. It shouldn't be too hard to supply a small team. Especially if you can help fund it with gang money from raids." I nodded. That sounded fine. Better the money went somewhere else than the gangs. I think I might feel a little conflicted using it myself, but if Sue wanted it? I don't think I'd have a problem with that. "And that was everything?" She asked.

I nodded. "You help me find people for my team, help us kit ourselves up, and find us targets to hit once we've got enough people and training to start hitting the gangs." I said it with more firm confidence than I felt, trying to make it sound official. It helped a bit that I was still 'looking' down, with my eyes closed, focused on healing. "In exchange, we'll help add to your intel on the gangs, try to keep you up to date on the heroes too, I can come by and heal when you need it... though it might be better to go to a hospital if you're really hurt..." I muttered that last part. "And... I suppose we can get you some money and stuff from the gang places we hit. And uh... some Tinkertech..." I could hear hissed 'Yes!'es from Gerard and Vincent. "IF we ever get a tinker!" I half-snarled to get the point across. We couldn't give what we didn't have, after all. "But yeah, info, healing, supplies... I can build whatever you need built, if you want that done, too."

"Well?" Sue asked the group. She got affirmations from everyone, even small nods from Su-Min and Arthur, when she turned her attention to them. "That settles it. We'll be working together from now on. You know what to do, go fucking do it." She made shooing motions, which got snickers from everyone but Arthur. Vincent and Gerard left straight away with small waves, Arthur following with another terse nod. Su-Min leaned against the doorframe, probably intent on staying until I left, and Sally came up beside me from her place behind where I was sitting.

"Here." She said, writing down a number on some paper. "Give me a call whenever you're in trouble. I'll rally the cavalry for you." She hopped to attention and gave me a jaunty salute before she headed to the door. "Oh, and send me a text if you change cape phones, yeah?" Oh, right. She probably had my number from calling the police while she was running dispatch...

"Right, yeah!" I said, and she waved and left.

I turned back to Jake, who pulled his eyes up to mine from where he'd been watching Sally's butt as she left. He smiled and shrugged at my blank stare. "So, how much longer do you think it'll take?"

"Not too much, more than halfway done, I think."

A few minutes later, Sue spoke up from rocking in her chair. "You know, if you want us to gather capes for you, you should probably have a time and place to meet picked out." I flinched. I knew I'd been forgetting something! "Did you have anything in mind?"

I shook my head, not sure if she could see it with her head lolled back in her chair. "Not really... maybe a couple weeks out, to give time to find people... I'd probably just wind up picking a park or something public."

Sue nodded. "I'll figure something out?"

"If you wouldn't mind." I answered, and she nodded.

Jake got out his phone to wait out the last ten minutes or so of healing. It wouldn't have taken nearly as long, if I hadn't needed to undo a lot of the healing it'd already done, to fix it up without leaving scar tissue where the wound used to be.

When I was done and heading out, I told him, "Now stop getting yourself shot."

"Already one of my life goals, don't you worry." He answered.

I said my goodbyes and headed out, nodding to Su-Min and getting a slight head-tilt in return, after which she followed me out to re-lock the doors behind me. I made my way to the building where I'd left my bag, recovering my things and heading out for training, when I remembered Dinah's warning from this morning. I didn't want to just walk right into a trap, but I also didn't want to back down from a fight unless I had to. So I plugged the new number into my phone and dialed it.

"Terra? Are you okay?" Sally asked, when she answered.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I actually kinda' liked my name, shortened like that.

She heaved out an audible sigh. "Had me worried, calling so soon. What's up?"

"I…" How to phrase this… "If I… had it on good authority that I was going to… maaaybe… get ambushed, later today… should I call someone to maybe help, before that happens?"

I could imagine her non-plussed stare into the distance, wherever she was. "Terra…" She muttered darkly. When I didn't respond, she sighed. "No walking into traps. You're not allowed. If you're dead set on doing whatever, anyway, call the PRT. If they won't send you backup, either don't fucking go, or call me, and I'll go with you. Do you understand?" With that commanding tone, I could kind of see her as a cop, now…

"Yes, ma'am." Was really the only valid reply.

"Good. Text me if they send someone." She said, with a certain note of finality to it. "And Terra?"

"Y-yeah?" I flinched, as I was making my way down to the street.

"You're a good kid." Sally's tone softened considerably. "Take care of yourself."

Then she hung up, and I was left staring at my phone, standing on the last landing of a fire escape. I felt conflicted. On one hand, the way she immediately took charge and dictated the situation to me grated a bit, but on the other? It was nice to feel cared about.

I sniffled, just barely stopping myself from trying to wipe at my eyes with my masks in the way. I squeezed my eyes instead, took a few fortifying breaths, and hopped the last couple meters down to the alleyway below.

The phone picked up on the second ring. "PRT non-emergency helpline, how may I be of assistance?"

"Hello. This is Terraform." I started, as I walked. "I, uhh..."

"Do you need to be transferred to the emergency line?" Generally when a cape called them, that was the one they needed.

"No, I... don't think so? I was going to do some training, and I'm pretty sure a fight's going to break out. I was wondering if I could have some backup on hand, instead of needing to call them in later."

"Okay." They sounded a little confused, but pressed on. "And where were you thinking of doing this at?"

"The Trainyard." I answered, almost immediately. The line went quiet, and I thought I heard a low breath.

"Let me transfer you over." The line clicked and buzzed. I guess it was an emergency call situation after all?

The line picked up again. "Armsmaster." The man himself said, causing me to freeze.

They transferred me to Armsmaster? "Uhh, hi. It's Terraform. I... have a potential ambush situation I think you might want to take advantage of, sir?"

I got the sense he was pausing, stilling some work he'd been in the middle of. "I'm listening."

"I was going to go train today, and I'm pretty sure the Merchants are going to pop up. They did last time, and once before that. I'd say it's good odds something's going to happen."

He hummed, and I thought I could hear soft clicking in the background. "You're training in the Trainyard?" He must have been looking up reports or something.

"Trying to clean it up a bit, two birds and all." Ugh, I can't believe I said that. Stop trying to be hip at the Protectorate hero!

An agitated grunt later, "You're set on doing this there, today? There's been increased gang activity from the Merchants and ABB. I must advise against it."

Had there been? I hadn't really noticed. "Isn't that all the more reason to pull them to somewhere you know they'll be?"

He paused, probably thinking it over, and sighed. "What do you think you'll need?"

I couldn't help the grin. "Just someone to watch my back, just some troops and something to haul people away in should be enough."

There was some more of the soft clicking, followed by a low grumble. "Aegis and Dauntless are in the area. They'll rendezvous with you at the southeast entrance, on 16th street."

Wait, I was getting capes? "Are you sure?" I couldn't help asking.

A soft chuff, probably a scoff. "They'll be there in ten, unless you need more time?"

Ten minutes to get across the whole city? I could probably manage in three, if I cut loose. "That's fine."

A couple more clicks. "Armsmaster, out." The line cut dead.

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Feb 9, 2020

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Dalxein

Dalxein

LocationOregon

Feb 10, 2020

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#121

SUN FEB 20

I sent Sally a text, saying 'They're sending capes.' and getting a short 'kk' back.

That done, I cinched down my pack and stretched, shaking the kinks from sitting for half an hour out of my joints. Then I got down in a sprinter's start, and shot off. When I got to the more populated sections of the city, I ran diagonally up the side of a building, to start hopping rooftops instead. Which, given I couldn't just maintain my wind-boosted sprint in an uninterrupted straight line, actually made it slower than the ground.

It was fine, though. I still made it with five minutes to wait, picking around the trainyard with my senses and checking for more of those bombs from last time, while keeping an eye out for fliers. It was annoying, knowing anyone that anyone who could fly could still sneak up on me, but there wasn't much I could do about it other than try to get into the habit of looking up. As I craned my neck, I realized that stung a little. Being as depressed and downtrodden as I'd been for so long, looking down had become instinctual, ingrained in a way that was hard to put into words. It wasn't just not showing my face to the bullies, it was... pessimism. Hopelessness. Keep your head down, don't attract attention, look for the good in your place in the muck, stay down where you belong.

I took a breath and sighed it out, unclenching my hands, which were so tight they creaked painfully as I released them. I wasn't that girl anymore. I wouldn't be her anymore. I choose to hope.

I forced a smile onto my face as I waited. I'd heard somewhere that the brain's wired to think you're happy if you're smiling.

I noticed the not-quite-subtle PRT wagon first. Mostly empty from what I could tell, it still had at least four bulky figures in the seats. The air-filled rubber tires still made it hard to see into cars. Dauntless caught my eye next, with his distinct stutter-start flight. It looked a bit like someone wading through thick mud, each step taking them streaking hundreds of feet through the air instead of one or two. Which wasn't to say he was motionless when between them, he just floated slowly instead. It reminded me a bit of Legend actually, with his ability to be a relatively normal flier, or break out near-lightspeed travel in a pinch.

Aegis was much more subtle than a lightning bolt, as it were. A reddish speck in the sky, growing larger as he got closer. I couldn't help but think there must be a mismatch in their cruising speeds, with Dauntless choosing to repeatedly catch up to the Ward, rather than overtake him. The two shot past the PRT van as they made their way closer, and the van parked itself a few blocks away. Maybe I wasn't supposed to know it was there?

My thoughts were interrupted by the pair dropping out of the sky next to me. Aegis had a big, friendly grin as he floated closer. Dauntless' smile was smaller, but I could still see it clearly through the gap in his centurion helmet, beneath where the built-in visor ended. It actually looked to my senses like they were two separate pieces, like my masks.

I shook Aegis' outstretched hand. "Terraform. It's good to see another hero around. I'm Aegis. Wards leader." He had a rather strong grip, but that shouldn't have surprised me, with his super-strength.

"Hi." I said, a little weakly. I still wasn't too keen on meeting people my own age. I had enough people to exhaust myself being around now, and something just felt... off about this. About him. Maybe it was the fact that he would've been my boss if I'd joined the Wards, but some part of me just didn't like him.

"Hello," Dauntless said, saving me from my awkward pause. "It's good to see you again, now that we have time to talk." I shook his hand too. He didn't seem off, like Aegis did. Then again, he wasn't in any sort of leadership position, besides being higher than the Wards in the command chain. It helped that I could tell he was nervous, but hiding it well enough. Something about putting a rising star like Dauntless on edge made me feel powerful.

"Yeah." I muttered, then straightened. No need to be rude, after all. "Thank you for coming to back me up, especially... under the odd circumstances."

"Armsmaster mentioned that, yeah." Dauntless nodded. "We... sort of realized the wording might imply some thinker warning, but we don't tend to find shakers with thinker powers, outside novel uses of their abilities, or things that make using them easier." I could tell he'd started rambling a little, but it was fine.

"It's..." Deflect, deflect. I shouldn't even let on we have a thinker, if it can be helped... "A teammate wanted me to be careful today. Made me call the PRT." Probably not ambiguous enough, but I had to hope Dinah would be a little safer, as long as I kept deflecting.

The pair blinked at that. Aegis cleared his throat. "You have a team?" I made an affirmative noise, and he continued. "How many teammates? Do you mind telling us about them?"

I froze up, my hackles raising. It was fishing for information, which was bad, but so obvious that it was probably just a teenager trying to socialize with a peer. Still, deny, deny... "I'd rather not say." I raised my hands to stall the questions I could tell they wanted to ask. "It's not that I don't trust you, it's just that I can't trust you." I chuckled nervously after that spilled out. That didn't sound fantastic, and they glanced at each other, before Dauntless let out a confused hum.

"Do you... mind telling us why?" He asked.

What was it that Amy'd said? "Trigger trauma. Authority-related. It's complicated." And I really don't want to talk about it.

I could feel his eyes widen behind his visor, and Aegis looked a tad poleaxed. "Ah, that's... okay." Dauntless muttered.

Shaking my head, I added, "That's why I can't join the Wards. I've got... trust issues, and control issues..." I hugged myself, rubbing my arms. At least they were focusing on me now, instead of Dinah. "I just can't take orders from someone I don't already trust, and in a big organization, that's bound to happen eventually."

They shared another look, this one far less nervous. "I can respect that." Dauntless said after turning back to me. "It's good to be conscious of our problems. Lets us make better choices, and work towards being better people." Aegis nodded along, and I tilted my head. I was a bit flattered, but... eventually he chuckled. "That's what my therapist says, anyway."

I wanted to ask about him seeing a therapist, it was hard to conceptualize heroes as people with problems of their own, but being a hero myself, I knew it could happen. Aegis nodding along again helped stay my tongue as well. "We get worried about independents." Aegis said, waving his hand in a 'what can you do?' motion. "A lot of them aren't willing to join any team, let alone the Wards. It's good that you've got someone to watch your back."

I nodded along, happy they were so quick to drop their recruitment tactics. "That's part of why I'm forming my own team. Dad and I think it'd do the city a lot of good to have an option besides the government capes and outed New Wave." Dinah'd said there were good chances we'd have four capes in a couple weeks, extrapolating that out... "We're hoping to have a solid team in a month or two."

They looked suitably impressed, and not just about the team, from Dauntless' next words. "Your parents know you're a cape?"

That stung more than I thought it would. "...yes." Better that they thought I had a set, to obfuscate my civilian identity as well as possible. It still hurt, like I was disrespecting mom's memory by implying she was still alive.

They didn't seem to notice, and he continued on. "That's another problem young capes have. Too many hide things from their parents, making rash choices and taking needless risks instead."

I bit back the groan at his words. That was part of why I was talking to dad, he'd wanted me to talk to him about these things, and my choices, to make sure I wasn't making foolish mistakes. If I'd called him about today, instead of Sally, I had no doubt he'd tell me to stop heading to the Trainyard, training or not. Had I just ignored him out of habit again, like I used to? I needed to start talking to him again. These bad habits needed to stop.

...oh well, nothing to do about it, today. I grabbed my backpack, slinging it on like it wasn't more than twenty pounds of books and gear, and pointed a thumb through the entryway. "Well, do we want to head in? I can show you some of what I've been doing to train."

"That sounds good." Aegis said. "We might even find ways to help with that."

I hadn't thought of that, but it did sound like a good idea. "I'd like that." I led them over to the nearest of my piles, the one where I'd had that fight last time. I dropped my bag again and took a moment to clean things up. Stuff had shifted a bit, maybe people were digging through the piles or something, it was the work of moments to pile up crunched metal containers and rebar, and re-stack piles of concrete and asphalt rubble, and the small stacks of brick from dismantled buildings. I raised my leg, holding my foot out in an exaggerated stance more for the spectacle of it than anything, and stamped my foot down to no obvious effect. The boys stood around confused, and right when Aegis was about to ask what that was about, an empty shipping container crashed down nearby with a calamitous racket. I casually flicked the wave of gravel ejected by the explosion back towards the ground, and turned to find the other heroes staring at me in horror.

The looks on their faces were hilarious. I couldn't help the ugly, snorting cackle that ripped itself from my throat. They'd backed away a bit, eyeing myself and the partly-crumpled metal box warily. My laughter petered out about ten seconds later. "Haha, oh man, did I need that." I hadn't laughed that hard in... I couldn't even remember, really. "I'll warn you next time. I've gotten very good at throwing rocks. And throwing things with rocks." I kicked my foot and the gravel under the container surged upward, twisting in midair to land a couple meters closer to us. I kicked again just as it was about to hit, and continued to juggle it right past us to where the foundation of the building I got blown into the other day was. I'd already torn it apart brick by brick, so it was little more than a massive slab of concrete now.

With the container beside the foundation, I strode up to it, taking a solid stance and flicked my hands out a couple of times. The concrete gave a pair of loud cracks as straight splits parted it, carving out a more manageable chunk that I levitated out of the ground with a pair of upward-thrust fists and a grunt of effort. The surface area of the slab was carefully measured at just bigger than the container's sides, and it was almost two feet thick. With deep, steady breaths, I hovered the slab over the container, and gently lowered it down. The container took the weight for a couple seconds, enough that I'd started to wonder if I'd need to help it along, before the rusty steel groaned and squealed, crumpling under more than twenty tons of weight.

Yes, I did look up how much concrete weighed.

When the container stopped crumpling, I pressed the slab down a bit, before lifting it off and setting it to the side. I raised the flattened container by levitating the gravel under it, and deposited it noisily on top of the pile with the rest. I turned to the heroes, noting that Dauntless was staring with wide eyes, and Aegis' mouth was hanging open. My face broke into a wide grin, even though they couldn't see it.

"Any questions?" I asked cheekily.

Aegis gave off a soft, startled wheeze, and Dauntless took a deep breath before asking, "Is... that your upper limit?"

I snorted and shook my head. "Haven't hit it yet." I'm sure I had one, but I was just as sure it was going up at least as fast as I was chasing it down. I probably wouldn't have been able to lift the slab when I started out. Now though? The hardest part was getting it out of the ground.

He paused again. "And you can do that with...?"

"Any of the classical elements, yes." I went over to my bag, grabbing out the old canteen and a couple of paper fans. "Water's a little hard to demonstrate when there's none around, but..." I took the cap off after shoving the fans in my hoodie's pockets. Then I pulled the water out, and started flowing through some simple motions, the water streaming along beside me. I danced with it for a few seconds, then froze it into sharp shards around me with a twirl and a flourish, the ice spiraling around me for a moment before it unfroze and flowed back into the canteen. They were both giving me weird looks again, but I shrugged and dug out the fans. I flipped them open and spun, leaping into the air and twirling, lashing out at the height of the jump, and causing a small literal tornado to speed out from my trajectory. The space I'd chosen was mostly empty, but I still had to flash out a few wind bursts to keep the gravel from raining down directly on top of us. Without a storm driving it, the wind quickly petered out. Then I closed the fans, holding them in my fists as I punched out a couple fireblasts, leapt up and kicked out a wave of flame, before landing and directing streams of fire to the ground around me. I spun, creating a wide circle of flame, which I pulled up with a rising twirl and raised hands. A swirl of air away from me kept me fairly cool in the middle of a biblical pillar of flame that died down a few seconds later, once the slow breath I'd been letting out ran out.

I hopped over the several-foot-wide trench of charred and semi-molten gravel, making my way back over to my bag. The two were staring again, and I decided to give them time to process what they'd seen. I kept the fans in my pockets, strapped the canteen to my waist, and grabbed the tonfa out of my bag, slipping them into the waist of my pants, under my hoodie.

"That was..." Dauntless said, regaining his wits. "...very impressive."

I shrugged. "I really don't want to use fire against anyone, but the others are pretty great, yeah." The two just nodded, still not sure what to make of me, so I said, "I'm gonna drop another container over there, okay?" I pointed to where the other had landed, and the two nodded and backed away. I launched another container into the air and tried to catch it with a mitt of gravel this time, to marginal success. Aegis was floating off to the side near Dauntless, watching me, while the older hero was standing around, talking into a microphone in the headset I wasn't supposed to be able to see through his helmet. Probably updating their information on me while it was fresh in his mind, but that was okay. I hadn't shown off the peak of my abilities, and I was okay with looking a bit scary.

We lived in the same city as Lung and a gang of Nazis with their own personal living blender. A bit of scary was more than called for, in comparison.

This continued for a while, them watching me crush containers, and making or listening to reports on their radios. Eventually Aegis offered to help with some target practice, and I started shooting bits of gravel at him while he tried to dodge. "So what are your powers, anyway? You're an Alexandria package, right?" I asked conversationally, also trying to distract him to land a few more hits. My aim was pretty spot on most of the time, but it was hard to change trajectories after I'd launched something, so the little stones weren't too hard to dodge if he focused on one of them. I felt sending out too many at once wasn't very sporting, even though I could've saturated the air with projectiles. Even so, I was sending three to five rocks at him every second, the hand motions directing them looking not entirely unlike someone trying to swat a pesky bug away from their face.

I was self-aware enough to know I looked silly right now, but I was hitting him more often than missing, so I counted it as a win.

"It's actually... redundant biology... and flight..." he managed, as I kept pelting him. He was having a harder time dodging and talking, so I took pity on him and lowered my rate of fire a bit. "Adaptive biology, I mean. I can make myself stronger or tougher, but the real strength of it is making myself able to see from part of my skin if I'm blinded, or pump blood with my spleen if my heart's damaged, or anything like that, really."

Wait... "So you can change how your organs work, too? Even if nothing's wrong?"

He nodded, which was odd, since he was still dodging in midair. "Yeah. Can make organs work better, or differently. Why?"

That'd explain why he felt so off to me. If his heartbeat, breathing, and other tells didn't line up with what I was expecting from a normal person. I think the term was 'uncanny valley'? Seeing something not quite right, but close enough to what you expect that it should be right... "No reason." I lied.

I wasn't sure how he took that, not being able to see him with my senses, but he seemed to just accept it at face value. I upped the rate I was firing rocks back to normal, and things continued for the next few minutes.

Then I felt a couple of vehicles drive up nearby, a car and a truck, and figured this was what I was waiting for. I felt a bit excited to take more goons off the street, and my face split into another grin. I didn't say anything to the heroes, that would just give away my senses, after all. The men unloaded from the vehicles, nine of them in total. One was gesturing about, probably giving orders. They started spreading out, and one of the shorter, dumpier ones started to shred.

I stumbled a bit, watching the portly stickman slowly collapse into a mass of tendrils, skin flaying, bones and organs liquifying, muscles peeling themselves into strands... I shook my head and coughed. Aegis flew down and asked if I was okay, but I waved him off.

What the fuck was that!?

And then I noticed the detritus in the area clumping together, about where the man's body used to be. "Oh, shit." I muttered, watching the humanoid form building itself, already larger than both their transports combined. Was this worth giving away my secret? I could bury Mush now, and that might take him out of the fight. But it would also tell the heroes I could see through walls and buildings. The worst part of my powers was how easily I could violate privacy, and I had no idea how the PRT, let alone the public, would handle it.

No, this was fine.

I can take him.

The first of the men rounded the corners behind the nearby standing buildings, and shuffled back to tell his friends where we were. They weren't very quiet about it, and I had to wonder if I was getting better at sensing sounds at range, or if they were just that bad at stealth. Either way, I had the opening I needed.

"I think we might have company." I said, waving over at the group.

Aegis' head perked in that direction, and I figured he was doing something to increase his hearing. Either way, he tapped the side of his helmet and said "Incoming." Dauntless perked up at that, readying his lance.

Leader-guy was waving his hands again. I had no idea what orders were left to give, but with Mush here... wait. If this guy was giving Mush orders, then he was probably...

About when I realized that, Mush's construct slammed its shoulder into the rear of the building they were hiding behind. The body absorbed the wall as it started to collapse, and thin tentacle whips of trash were slammed into the walls on his way through. The whole thing started to cave in on itself, and by the time he barreled out the front of the building, Mush had doubled his size.

"Holy fuck." Wasn't this guy supposed to be a C-lister? The Merchants were so small more than half the city didn't know what they were called! Mush rolled to the side, giving us our first clear view of Skidmark and the rest of the goons, half of whom were holding guns, and the rest were grabbing whatever Mush hadn't picked up, rushing the bits over to a brightly glowing violet strip I couldn't see with my senses and- "Fuck!" Dodging now!

I'd barely rolled away in time for the cinderblock to dig a trench a quarter mile behind me, instead of splattering me across the ground. Okay, no. Playtime was over. I raised a hill between us and the ad-hoc railgun and punched a clod of gravel-laden dirt right into Skiddy's crotch from under his feet hard enough to lift him off the ground. He'd been layering more fields over the existing ones. Probably to punch through the mound of dirt and gravel protecting us. That was not okay. As he landed and started collapsing to his knees, a wave of my hand brought a hand-sized mass of gravel up to slap him hard enough that he crumpled to the ground unconscious.

Fuck that asshole.

Mush stopped where he'd been, halfway between the building and my piles of rubble and scrap. The tops of the piles were starting to drag themselves towards him, and I could just barely make out tiny threads linking each of the pieces to the mass. The giant stood fully upright, staring back in confusion at his fallen leader, not seeming to notice as Dauntless blasted holes through his body. The electrical nature of the attack wasn't lending itself well to this fight, the steel an excellent conductor letting the charge flow between bits of metal until it hit the ground, while the brick and mortar and concrete that made up the majority of his golem body was an excellent insulator. The kinetic energy of the lance was blowing chunks away, and the occasional thin hole pierced directly through limbs or the body, but these were filling themselves too quickly for the damage to build up. I stomped my foot to halt the progress of the stone he was dragging towards himself, quickly finding myself struggling. It was like fighting a massive invisible hand trying to pull them along. What the hell was going on?

This seemed to shake him out of his stupor, and he flung one of his arms back towards the pile of containers. The limb thinned as it lengthened, slapping down on the flattened steel. Dauntless took the chance to focus on the thinner section of limb, having more success by the time I got used to the weird force on the rocks and held them steady. Mush was still pulling at the steel though, and I shook my head and let him have the rocks. Better to cut him off entirely, I thought as I sprinted to leap from the top of the hill I'd made earlier. I vaulted myself towards the arm where it was taking damage, rolling headfirst as I pushed myself forward with gusts of wind from my hands. At the height of my jump I lashed my legs out, flashing out first a massive gout of fire with the first, then a wave of wind with the second. The fire seared at the tendrils, the wind gouged at the stone, and I came down with both fists smashing into the ground, tearing a rift into the ground and severing the limb with earthbending.

Mush let out a sound not unlike a deep bass shriek as his body staggered back, apparently able to feel the fact that I'd ripped its arm off practically at the elbow. His tendrils crushed the few containers he'd been able to get against his body like armor, and I started work burying the rest as he lurched away. He didn't seem able to work with gravel or dirt, so I churned the earth to put tons of the stuff above the larger chunks of detritus. If my guess was right, those tendrils were each pulling with about a ton of force, so this would put them out of his reach.

Aegis had been handling the normals, having flown past Mush and tackled one to the ground. He'd been wrestling their guns away one at a time, tending to leave the men winded and worse off, but some of them had pistols they took out after, or just got up to charge him with knives. One of them had even run away, but the rest were still shooting at him, which made getting into melee a challenge after the first friendly fire incident. They were all still standing near their boss, with Mush bearing down on them, snatching their leader from the ground and pulling Skidmark into his mass.

It was taking too long to handle the thugs, I decided. I thrust my palm up, tearing the top foot of packed soil and gravel from the former alleyway between the next building over and the one they'd demolished. This had the fortuitous effect of causing the massive golem to stumble as it tried to get through there, but that wasn't my goal. I pulled the fracturing mass towards me, barreling it into the goons who were still standing, knocking them down. Then I just dropped it, covering each of the men in a couple hundred pounds of gravel and dirt clods. They'd dig themselves out, but Aegis was already floating down to catch them as they surfaced.

Dauntless had let up on strikes to Mush's torso when he pulled in Skidmark, just in case. Another couple bolts to the giant's stone legs which barely phased it, had him deciding to help Aegis instead. That left the capes to me, and I felt just fine with that. Mush had made it into another alley with two standing buildings to a side by then. When I grabbed the dirt under him and caused it to shudder, pulling the lot like a conveyer belt back towards me, his arms lashed out to the walls. I pulled at his body, but between that weird pull that kept them bundled into a humanoid shape and sensing Skidmark unconscious at its core, I didn't think I could safely bend the body in multiple directions or try to peel him open without accidentally squishing him. The Merchants were trash, but they weren't worth blood on my hands.

We were at a stalemate, it seemed. He couldn't move as long as I was holding him and shifting the ground under him, but I couldn't actually do anything for fear of finishing off Skidmark. The PRT van had finally made it, parking near the entrance. The troopers got out, but seemed content to stay well away from the obvious cape fight for now, checking their gear as they slowly moved to assist with the normals.

That was when another set of vehicles started accelerating abnormally toward us from a couple blocks away. I didn't know who they were or what'd set them off, but the vans were set to show up in under a minute. I took stock of the area, Aegis and Dauntless a building over digging people out of the ground, the open space of the former building between them and the open hard by the entrance, with the PRT van on the other side of it. I spent half a minute slowly backing up while holding Mush pinned so I'd have a clear line of sight of the vans when they got here. When they did I cursed, catching flashes of red and green as men leaned out the windows to take shots at the troopers in the open.

I let Mush go for the moment, stomping my feet to raise thick but stubby walls between the troopers and the vans. My hands flashed out to snap a fault in the concrete foundation of the former building, before gripping my fists and heaving it up, tearing rents in the remainder as the rebar ripped from what I'd left on the ground. I didn't have time to spend the focus or effort keeping it neat, I just needed a nice tall barrier. When I got the slab upright, I focused back on Mush. It'd taken him a couple seconds to realize he could move, and I only gave him another couple before yanking him to a halt. He'd still made it to the end of the buildings though, grabbing the corners and trying to drag himself out of the alley. Not giving him the chance, I just yanked the walls, too. He scrabbled and scraped as he was dragged back a few meters, until his arms found purchase in the cement foundations of the buildings beside him, gripping into the rebar mesh as he tore out the stone.

Most of the men were leaping from the vans, hunching near doors or spreading out towards the walls while a couple peppered the troop's cover to keep them down. Dauntless chose that moment to leap into the air, his boots sending him soaring above the nearby warehouses. I could hear the Asians cry out in surprise, before he used his lance to spear through the engine block of the empty nearest van. There was a small gout of flame as it sputtered and died. Apparently not seeing the honor in standing their ground, the driver of the second nearly empty van gunned it, spewing gravel before the tires caught and sent it rocketing away. I could feel their panic and fear as desperation set in, most of them turning their guns skyward to force Dauntless to hide behind his shield.

The ones who'd been on their way to the walls redoubled their speed, trying to make it to cover. The fire died down as their guns ran out, lightning flashing down to knock the men out one at a time. At least one of the men had a grenade, which seemed pretty obvious in hindsight considering one of their capes was known for using them. They pulled the pin and threw it at the troopers still huddled behind their cover. The men running for the concrete wall stopped as they saw Aegis and the bound up merchants on the other side, lifting their guns to open fire. Most of the shots missed, but one of the merchants had his shoulder pulped before Aegis flew into the line of fire. The grenade hit the ground.

I groaned as I let Mush go again. He was ready this time, shooting across the lot to slam into the next building over, before scrambling to his feet and making a beeline for their ride in. I turned and kicked my foot, a small mitt of gravel launching itself and the grenade away from the troopers. The idiot who'd thrown it already had another out, but I didn't want to risk trapping him with live munitions. I turned my attention to the assholes shooting at the prisoners, sweeping them under tides of gravel like I had the Merchants. I ran for the wall, boosting my sprint with a gust and vaulting it. The second grenade was in the air already, and I kicked out a gust to carry it behind a building before it'd land. When I hit the ground, I cratered it. A wave of rock and debris rippled out from me, pulling the nearby goons underground and upturning their smoldering van.

Mush had just grabbed the car and run away with it, setting it down after depositing Skidmark inside, and reforming himself in the driver's seat. I couldn't stop them now without following them back to their base, or crashing the car. I watched Aegis check the Merchants, and the troopers spring into action. One of them made a beeline for their transport, while the others spread out, heading to back up Aegis or start digging out the ABB.

I sighed. "They're getting away." I muttered.

Loud enough to be overheard it seemed, as Dauntless floated down beside me. "They're running. It's what they do when they start losing." I could hear the grin in his voice, and when he landed I felt how forced it was. "Sometimes they get away, but your ambush happened, and no one got hurt." He paused, turning to take stock of the injuries around, merchants being tended by one of the troopers, a bloody Aegis standing nearby. He seemed to notice we were talking about him, and waved.

"I'm okay!" He called as cheerfully as he could.

Dauntless chuckled. "Well, no one died, and none of our side were seriously hurt." We watched the agent who'd run back to their transport jog over to the van, slowing down to a brisk but tense walk. He sprayed the hole, before fiddling with the latch and prying the hood off, hosing the whole block down once he was in. The rest of the tension left Dauntless as he turned back to me. "Everything worked out fine." He chuckled. "You know, I wasn't even sure this ambush of yours was going to happen at first.

"Really?" My tone was something between a huff and a whine.

He snorted, and I realized how very teenager I'd sounded just then. "Not every day's exciting." He shrugged, smiling wistfully. "I'm kinda' partial to the ones that aren't." That had me feeling pretty bad. Dauntless seemed like a pretty decent guy, who honestly didn't like fighting very much, and the first thing I did with him was drag him into an ambush. "But that's okay. Not every win is a perfect one, but today was definitely a win." He nodded to the groups of gangsters being lined up against my concrete wall. It wasn't much, but it did make me feel a bit better. "You did good, and it was time well spent on our part. Always keep an eye out for the bright side, Terraform." I could tell he was putting up a front, projecting confidence for my benefit. My senses ruined it a little, but he was charismatic enough that it would've worked otherwise.

I tried to put on my best smile, feeling like he deserved me trying to return the effort. "You can call me Terra, you know."

He held out his hand, and I shook it. "Terra, then."

I started helping after that, righting the van and unpacking the gangsters from the ground one at a time, letting each get pounced by a pair of troopers or Aegis. It was over less than a minute later, and I was pointing them in the direction Mush ran off. Dauntless peeled off to check things out in that direction, but didn't expect to find much. The troopers packed up the Merchant truck and the ABB van, filling up the transport they'd come in and leaving Aegis and I to wait for more backup.

It was only a few minutes to wait for another two PRT vans to show up, which disgorged a dozen troops, most of which split themselves between the various vehicles, checking for bombs or trackers, or other booby-traps while a couple helped Aegis and I load the rest of the gangsters up. When it was determined the vehicles were perfectly safe, the agents fanned out to document the site for records of the fight. I gave a verbal report of what'd happened from my point of view- I only omitted the parts where my earth-senses were involved- and they left me to cleaning things up after that. Dauntless had returned while I was giving my report, but he stayed in the air keeping watch until the rest of the agents left in the trucks that came by to tow the gang's vehicles away.

After that, I decided it was probably time to call it a night. It wasn't very dark out, but I had spent most of the day training already… and I needed to talk to dad. Dauntless said goodbye, and Aegis gave me a phone number to call if I ever decided to start patrolling with the Wards.

I made my way home, ducking into an alleyway to change hoodies and de-mask, along with stowing my gear in my bag again. Once back in 'civvies', I checked my phones. I was surprised to find a missed call and a few texts. I shot off replies to Amy and Vicky. Amy got an apology for being busy training, and that I'd tell her about it later. Vicky I told I was fine, but spacing out on a lazy Sunday. The last one, though?

'Hey, Taylor. I tried to call, but it went to voicemail. I know you probably don't want to hear from me right now, but I wanted you to know that I was sorry. I'd like to get together sometime to clear the air and make amends. I'll answer' It hit the character limit and rolled over into a second text, 'anything you want to know. I'd really like it if we could still be friends. –Kara'

Goddammit, I was already feeling like shit for ignoring dad again, and now this? I was still mad at her. I knew I was still mad, and she knew it too, but… she'd been very kind, there at the end. I was still feeling confused and conflicted about that. I thought on it for another couple blocks of walking, before I decided I couldn't not give her another chance. I replied, 'Sure. What'd you have in mind?' I knew the ball was in my court, and I could be a petty bitch and put this off for weeks if I wanted to, but I knew I shouldn't.

'Maybe coffee or tea after school? Does Monday work?' came back almost instantly. She'd probably been waiting on my reply. It reaffirmed that she probably did feel really bad about what happened.

'How about Tuesday?' …just because I was trying to forgive her didn't mean I couldn't be a little petty about it. She could stew an extra day. Amy would be busy that day too, so it wasn't like I'd have plans.

'Sounds great!' With that settled for now, I nodded and made my way home.

"Hey, dad?" I asked when I got home. He was on the couch, watching the news. I dropped my bag on the way in, and sat down.

"Yeah, Taylor? What's wrong?" He asked, watching me sit.

I paused, not sure how to start. "I… think I might be forgetting. To keep you involved in things."

"What happened?" He didn't snap, he never did, with me, but there was a sharpness to his voice I hadn't heard directed at me in years. After a second staring at me, while my eyes stayed on the TV, he clicked it off with the remote. "Taylor?"

I chewed my lip. "I just… I've been training. In the Trainyard. I know we talked about that, but…" He nodded his head in a 'go on' way, but otherwise waited. "…I got into a fight. …again."

He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, the remote creaking in his hand before he set it down as he breathed out. "You're telling me now. That's what's important." He said, more to himself from what I can tell. "How bad were the fights? Were you hurt? Was anyone else hurt? Are there bodies?"

"No! No bodies!" I answered quickly. "I got scuffed up a little the first time, but never hurt. I… called for help today. Aegis got hurt a bit, but part of his power means little wounds don't matter." I saw the tension ebb out of him as I spoke. "I was never in any real danger." Except that time I dodged. Best he didn't find out about that. "I think… I might've done better without the Protectorate. I was holding back a bit. I don't want them to know about a couple of my powers. I could've won before the fight started, otherwise." Maybe not the smartest move, but something in my gut told me it was important.

He took another deep breath and let it out. "Taylor… I know you're not going to like this, but I want you to text me every time you're going to go train, from now on. I want to know where you are, and when you might be getting into these fights, but most of all… I want you to start running away."

"What?" I'd heard him fine, but… run away? When I'd win?

"It's that, or you're grounded." He said, firmly. I could tell the rage bubbling away in him was giving away to nerves. He was getting more sad and anxious by the second. "I don't care about the gangs, or the city, or anything as much as I care about you, Little Owl." He broke out mom's nickname just to twist the knife, I knew it, but it still hurt. "I want you to start running away from fights until you have people with you that you won't hold back around. You get your team, then you can stay and fight." That… didn't sound so unreasonable, I guess. "And if I hear about you getting into fights and not trying to run, you're grounded." I pouted at him and he pointed at me. "And if you're grounded and don't stay grounded..." the finger dropped and he sighed again. "I know I can't really keep you from doing anything now, but I'm sure Armsmaster could. You listen when I try to be your father, or it's the Wards for you." He waggled his finger again, trying to be funny and failing. "Am I understood?"

I scoffed. "We've talked about the Wards, dad. You know why they aren't an option."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Because they'd either start pulling you into fights or paint a target on our backs. Right?" I looked away first. "Exactly my point, Taylor. If you're already doing what the Wards would be doing, you might as well be a Ward."

"But…" I started, then looked away again.

His stern gaze softened a bit. "What's really wrong?"

I took a deep breath. "I don't like…" Being controlled? Manipulated? Used? "Being held down. Trapped." I managed. "It reminds me of Winslow too much."

"And how would the Wards do that?" He asked, and I gave him an incredulous look. "Just so I know where you're coming from."

I shook my head, but started talking anyway. "If I join the Wards, I'll start getting into fights, sure, but I'd have no say in which fights I'd get called away from. The ones where lives are on the line, or where I could make a difference. You know how fast I'm getting stronger, in a month or two I can probably take Lung if I wanted." Dad nearly had a heart attack, there. "But the Wards would keep me benched from real fights for at least two more years." I stood up and started pacing in front of the couch. "Then there's the Wards themselves. What if they're assholes? Or just like the Trio?" I realized then that dad might not know what I meant. "Like the girls at Winslow. I couldn't get away if I was on the team. And then there's the chain of command. What if I get an order I don't like, from someone I can't trust? I'd be AWOL faster than you can yell 'villain'." I snarled.

"This... really bothers you, doesn't it?" He felt numb. Shocked into stillness. The nerves were swiftly bubbling back to the surface, but for that brief moment when his blood vessels were so tight and his muscles were so loose, he just felt... lost.

I nodded. "Yeah. It... really does."

An aborted bit of laughter burbled out of him, before he choked it down. His eyes were starting to mist over a bit. He covered it up by rubbing at his face like he was tired, but I knew it was there. I thought about giving him a moment, letting him gather himself up, but I'd given him years in the past... "Dad?"

He heaved in a deep, wet breath, and chuckled ruefully. "I'm scared, kiddo." He shook his head, blinking rapidly. "I don't... handle scared well." I took the time to move back over to the couch and sit down. He didn't follow me with his eyes, and that was a bad sign. "I can deal with angry... I thought I could handle sad... scared?" He was smiling, but he wasn't happy. His hands were clenching, and his muscles tense. He was trying very hard not to be angry with me. "Scared's only good for making you angry or sad."

I needed to shut this down, before he blew up. "Dad, I..."

He raised his hand, cutting me off. "No, I get it." He swallowed thickly. "You're strong now. I get it. But I don't get it." His hands clenched out a pattern for a few seconds. "You're still my little girl. Her little girl." I looked away. A fine time to start protecting me, dad. Maybe something on my face gave it away, he was looking at me now... "I know I haven't been a good father, but... I thought I was doing okay. At least after..." After his intervention. He sighed and shook his head again. "I'm trying, but there's nothing I can do. I can't punch Hookwolf, I can't break Lung's kneecaps, I can't even..." He trailed off, his breathing growing heavier.

And now he was breaking down. I needed to cut him off. "Hey, you want me to be safe? We should talk about this, instead of just dictating terms." Try to get him back on familiar ground. "You want me to start texting you when I go places? That'll take me a few seconds, I can do that. But I'm not going to stop fighting if someone needs me." Take the bait, dad...

"But... you'll go if you don't have to stay?" He asked pointedly, and I cheered a little inside.

"If I'm just training, I can leave before anyone shows up." Except a flier, but now was not the time for that.

He was calming down a bit now. He always did better with something to fight, or fight for. That's part of why he fell apart for so long, rushing headlong into fighting for his boys, and leaving me in the dust. I could see how I wouldn't merit fighting for if I didn't tell him I needed it, I didn't forgive it, it didn't make it better, but I think I understood. "Can you find places to train that aren't in open gang territory?"

I thought about it, and gave a slow nod. "I want to clean up some of my mess in the Trainyard..." He gave me a sharp look, but I pressed on. "Just to bury my trash so they can't use it. I wanted to recycle it, but..." He was debating it, and eventually nodded. "I think I have some projects coming up, fixing some things for people. I could also start trying to get contracts with the city for tearing down buildings, or maybe putting up buildings, after I get my costume." Which should be done by the weekend, or early next week.

He nodded at that, then again, stronger. "That sounds good." We waited, until the silence grew slightly awkward. "I'm... sorry. About earlier."

"Threatening me with the Wards?" I asked, injecting a touch of incredulous teenaged sass.

Dad smiled and nodded. "I thought, even if you were angry with me, you'd still be here to be angry..." He trailed off, muttering. "Hey, if I wanted to meet your team, or see you working, would... I have to wear a mask?"

I bumped his shoulder with mine. "Probably, you doof." He grumbled at my name-calling. "Unless you wanted to go as Danny 'Head of Hiring for the DWA' Hebert, and I was working in the docks, or something."

He nodded, considering it. "Anything else?"

My stomach chose that moment to growl rather loudly. I blushed and muttered, "I… might have skipped lunch?"

He snorted, then broke down into chuckles. "Well, let's order a few pizzas, and you can tell me about these fights of yours. Deal?"

I smiled. It'd help give him an idea of how strong I was getting, which would probably help his worrying. "Deal."

...probably downplay the railgun and maybe skip the bomb part of that first story, though.

The original version of the Mush fight was bad, and I only recently got around to fixing it.

The original confrontation with Danny was riotously bad.

Literally. The thread actually rioted. It was purged the next day. I am assured both of these are improvements over the originals.

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Dalxein

Dalxein

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Feb 11, 2020

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#131

Some uncomfortable topics ahead, might want to skim a part if you're squeamish.

This update contains blunt references to sexual assault, but no details.

MON FEB 21

As I jogged to school, I realized how tired I was getting, of keeping an eye out for Emma and Sophia. Even if they tracked me down, what were they going to do? They were just normal people, and as dad said last night, I could just... leave. Retreat. Run away. They weren't a part of my life anymore, and I didn't have to entertain their sick notions that I was part of theirs.

I still kept vigilant, though. Because it was a good habit to get into.

After my shower, I found Amy in the cafeteria again. In what was becoming a morning ritual for us, I grabbed a small second breakfast and made my way over. "Your mom still giving you trouble?"

She scoffed into her corn flakes. "Carol's being a bit much, yeah."

"Anything I can do to help?" I asked as I handed over a banana.

She eyed the fruit warily as she contemplated her personal problems. "Maybe. She doesn't like you, but... I don't know what'd help."

Maybe some patrols with New Wave? "I dunno, we'll think of something."

She hummed and abandoned her mostly-empty bowl to peel her fruit.

"By the way..." I said, as I saw her taking a bite. "It is a dick joke, today."

She choked on her phallic fruitstick, then started coughing and sputtering before she growled "Betch!" through her rapidly-unfilling mouth. Try as she might, she couldn't fight the smile off her face.

I chuckled as I started on my food. Today felt like it was going to be a good day.

I was heading to lunch, scanning the school as was becoming habit now, mostly checking for Kara and Amy. My sweep found something surprising though. I stopped and stepped out of the flowing crowd to ponder it. Up on the third floor, in the Senior classrooms, I saw a familiar figure unpacking her lunch. A gaggle of girls and a couple boys stuck around to chat, but even now I could see them splitting off and heading down to lunch. I guess this explained why I'd never seen Tracy in the cafeteria, but it seemed weird to me that she'd be eating in the classroom. Was that even allowed?

My thoughts rumbled through my head, wondering if this was normal, if I should say something, do something, or even care. In the end, I headed to the lunch room and got in line while I kept an eye on her. Kara was sitting with Amy and Vicky, so I did kind of want to avoid their table for today...

Mind made up, I waited until all the adults in the room were looking away before I snuck out into the halls with my tray. I didn't think it was against the rules, but I was feeling paranoid, and it didn't take much additional time or effort to be sneaky about it. By the time I did that, Tracy was sitting alone in the classroom. Something about it felt oddly familiar, and I sped my walking to get there sooner.

When I got there, she blinked owlishly at me as I opened the door, and quickly swallowed the bite of sandwich she'd been chewing. "Oh. Hello, Taylor." She said, glancing down at my tray, then surreptitiously around the room without moving her head, then glanced down at her own food before looking back toward the door and giving me a once-over. All of this took barely three seconds. "Did you need something?"

"Not really, I just..." Dammit, now I needed a reason to have come looking for her! "...didn't see you at lunch, and asked around to see if you were okay?"

"Oh, that's very kind of you. I'm perfectly fine, though." She lied with a smile.

I didn't want to just leave it at that, so I asked, "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

She pondered the question for a moment, before she nodded. "Sure, if you don't mind my company."

"Why would I mind?" I asked as I strode to the seat next to hers.

"Oh, no reason, I don't know why I said it." She demurred, without my senses I'd have no idea she was lying again.

Part of me wanted to ask if she was okay, again, but that would be stupid. She'd just answer the same way. Still, I did want to get to the bottom of things... "You're on the basketball team, right?"

Her smile didn't fade, but I could feel her mood fluctuate darkly. "Yes?"

"You like being on the team?" I hedged.

Her smile faded a bit, and her eyes twitched down. "I do." Another lie. "The competitions can be fun, and my teammates are all very friendly." It felt... muddled? She wasn't lying, but something about what she said was still off.

"Are you thinking of playing professionally?" I knew women's sports weren't as lucrative as men's, but pro leagues for female teams were a thing.

"That's the plan." She chuckled, a slight edge of nerves cutting into her voice. "At least long enough to get through university." It was muddled again. Even if it was the plan, I don't think she liked the plan.

"I didn't think you'd need a sports scholarship, with your grades."

Her smile was brittle as she chuckled. "It is double-dipping a bit, isn't it?" She felt nervous, and I couldn't figure out why. "There's no reason I can't be athletic and intelligent, though." Another confusing lie.

We faded into silence after that, digging in to our lunches. I wasn't sure where to go from here, but I couldn't help if I had no idea what was wrong. A few minutes later, her mood started fluctuating again, and I caught her trying to say something, and stopping short.

"Yes?" I asked, and she shied away. "It's okay, what were you going to say?"

She flinched. "Are... you jealous?"

"What?" Seriously, what? "Not really, no. I don't really like sports, but I'm plenty athletic, and my grades are terrible, but that's because I've been stuck at Winslow," With those fucking bitches, "for the past couple years. I'm catching up, now." I was pretty content with how my life was going now. "Is that what you've been worried about?"

She shuffled a bit, fidgeting in her seat. "I'm… they…" She took a deeper breath and let it out slowly. "People tend to put me on a pedestal, for better or worse."

I had to stop and wonder what that would be like. I'd been slightly above average all my life before Winslow, but up at the top? Basically undisputed? "I'm sorry." I said, trying to sound contrite. "You must be under a lot of stress."

"Oh no," she chuckled, "it's fine. I'm fine." More lies. "You don't have to worry about me." That part, at least, she seemed to believe.

"Well, if you ever do think you need help... you can always call me."

She smiled. "Thank you." It was heartfelt, but I think we both knew she wasn't going to. Maybe she didn't know me well enough yet, or couldn't think of how I might help, but the offer was out there.

I dug my phone out of my pocket and tapped through my contacts. I asked her if she was the 'Tracy S.' I had listed, and she confirmed it. I sent her a 'This is Taylor, now you have my number' text, and we settled down to a fairly companionable silence until I asked about basketball games.

She gave a quick story of some of her experiences with home and away games, and then asked me about some of the training I did. I told her about dad's co-workers teaching me a lot, and she actually seemed fairly interested, asking a few questions as I summed up the who and what, there.

Eventually though, the bell rang and I said goodbye, before rushing back to the cafeteria to turn in my tray before classes started back up.

Amy and I decided we were past due for another trip to Tukson's. The bus rides were short, and while we were on them, I sent dad a text that we were going to be at a bookstore today, more to get back into the habit of keeping him in the loop than because he'd really care. I wasn't training, and I was spending time with a friend. He'd be happy I was spending the day almost anywhere, given those facts.

Tukson himself was reading at the front desk again, when we came in. I thought I caught something about 'ninjas' in the title before he noticed us and snapped it shut, setting it down behind the counter. "Tea room?" He asked as he stood.

"Is it open?" I asked. We'd already started following him upstairs.

He gave a rueful chuckle and said, "Sure is, girls." He let us into the room, and left to get our usual tea. We sat ourselves down, and Amy dug out her phone. I debated waiting for the tea before asking, but decided I might as well start now.

"Sooo… How's Kara?" I hadn't spoken to Amy since this morning, and I was curious.

She smirked and glanced over. "Sweating bullets. What'd you do?"

I shrugged. "Scheduled our 'make-up' get-together for tomorrow, and avoided her since then."

The chuckle Amy let out was positively evil. "Oh yeah, that'd do it. She's good people, but sometimes earns herself a kick in the ovaries. Love watching people collect on that."

My mind blanked in mild horror for a moment, before I schooled myself into mock surprise, holding my hand up to my mouth before I spoke. "My word, Amy! I didn't know you were that sort of girl."

She grinned, not bothering to look up from her phone. "A voyeur, or a sadist? 'Cause my power don't work on whips."

My face broke out in a massive blush, and I regretted not waiting for the tea. I'd love to have something to hide behind, right now.

Of course, that's when Tukson knocked on the door. Amy cheerily called for him to come in, while I mewled in displeasure and covered my face with my hands.

Even with my eyes covered, I could tell his eyebrow quirked up. "Am I interrupting something?"

Amy smirked at me, as if asking me if there was anything wrong. After a second, I realized she wasn't going to answer, and mumbled "No, everything's fine." against my palms.

Tukson smothered a chuckle and set the tea down on the table. I felt him wink at Amy as he pulled away, which set her to blushing, too. Her heartrate sped up and she huffed at him. Not so fun when it's you the fun's poked at, is it Amy?

I stuck my tongue out at her and she looked away, grumbling. Even if he probably knew I was a cape, I still waited until he was halfway to the stairs after shutting the door to change the subject. "So, I was thinking about your mom, and... Vicky."

Amy made a curious noise, then perked up in realization. "You don't have to tell my sister just because Carol'd be a little less of a bitch."

I choked down the immediate denial, instead taking a moment to properly formulate it. "That's what got me thinking about it, but it's not the main reason I'm considering it." I poured our tea while I thought about it. "Vicky's my friend too. I want to tell her, it'd be nice to have more people that get it that I can talk to. I just... wanted to get your opinion, first." Her heart sped up slightly as she watched the steam waft off her cup. "You were my friend first, and you know her better than I do."

Her face flushed a little as I watched her think. "Well, she's not likely to tell anyone else. She tells me everything because she knows I'm a steel trap and likes to vent sometimes." She was hesitant, a little unsure. She glanced up and caught the hard look I was aiming her way. "Well, if we ask her not to tell Dean, anyway." Her stomach flipped speaking about him, but otherwise her body'd leveled out into seeming entirely truthful.

"You think she'd tell him secret identities unless asked not to?" Amy puffed up a little indignantly, but glanced away. "Amy..."

"We're not the only capes at Arcadia." Amy said quickly, almost snapping. She paused for a beat before continuing. "It's no secret the Wards go, but it's not just them, either. Vicky knows who the Wards are, and at least one other cape. She knows, so I know, and Dean knows..." I could sense a strong 'but' she couldn't bring herself to finish. Something about what she'd said didn't sit right, and I was sure there was something I was missing. After a few seconds thinking about it, I decided I wasn't going to figure it out right now. I could always unpack it later. It hurt a bit, that Amy wasn't just telling me, but that I knew I could attribute to those control-freak tendencies that kept cropping up recently. It wasn't fair to demand she spill secrets that, were they mine, I'd also demand she keep.

I heaved out a sigh. "But you're sure she won't say anything, if we told her not to?"

Amy nodded. "Yeah." She was telling the truth, as far as I could tell. "Vicky's a good person, she's just..."

I smirked. "Wired differently than us introverts?"

She scoffed. "Was going to say 'weirdly naiive about some things' but that works, too." She drew in a slow breath and held it for a second. "But, if you want to, I think... you should tell her."

I took a deep breath in thought, hiding it as sniffing my tea. I took a sip and started thinking out loud. "I do want more friends I can talk to about cape stuff, and I feel weird that she's the only person in your family that doesn't know, despite being my friend." Immediate family, anyway. "I think… I should tell her, yeah."

After that, we changed the subject to meditating. I was starting to run out of things to teach her, so I decided to tell her about my 'chi' feelings and see if she could find and manipulate something similar. We spent a few hours on it, and she just wound up frustrated with it. It seemed our powers were too different for that to carry over. We spent the rest of our time calming down with regular mental exercises, then split up to head home.

TUE FEB 22

I woke up to a couple of frantic texts from Amy, asking me to meet her at school as soon as possible. Given that, I skipped my morning workout and pre-school breakfast, and headed straight for the door. I considered going all-out to get there faster, but figured it was a bad idea. I sent her a text saying I'd be there in half an hour to an hour, and jogged normally.

It'd been sprinkling a bit again, and wanting to meet up with Amy, I didn't have the benefit of heading right to the showers after getting in. Instead, I popped into a bathroom stall and pulled the water out of my clothes, flushing it down the toilet and leaving when I was sure no one who'd seen me enter wet was around to notice I was dry now. I double-checked my phone, and made my way to the classroom Amy said to meet her at.

"Taylor!" She cheered as I came in. She hopped to her feet and made her way over, vibrating with excitement despite the dark bags under her eyes. I didn't think she'd slept last night.

"Are you okay?" I asked worriedly, looking her over with my eyes and senses. She seemed fine, aside from the lack of sleep.

"I'm great!" She sang. Was she on drugs? I should check her for drugs. "My powers are better! They're doing... they're letting..." She chattered half-formed sentences for a couple seconds, and I stopped her when she came too close, by softly grabbing her shoulders.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I had no idea what to look for, for drugs. All the signs on her face could be explained by not sleeping, and she didn't seem hurt. I wasn't sure if my senses were fine enough to detect track marks from needles, but if they were, she didn't have any.

She nodded excitedly, and I let my hands drop. "Better than that." She took my hands with hers and grinned. "I can touch you!" Her heart was racing, and her cheeks started reddening after she'd said it.

"Yeah?" I drew the word out over a couple seconds, trying to figure out what was wrong.

"I can't see you!" She cheered with that unsettlingly wide smile. "Can't feel you! Can't... well I can, but..." She trailed off, muttering. "I can... I can..." Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, and she pulled my hands down with hers, causing me to lean forward. Then she stretched up slightly until her lips met mine.

My heart stopped, and my brain short-circuited. When the sharp, alarming confusion locking up my thoughts began to fade, I couldn't help but think it felt... nice. She smelled nice, and her lips were soft... but a bit dry. I could feel the ridge of a small crack in her lips against my own. A clinical part of my brain wondered if I should offer her some water, if she was dehydrated, and then blood rushed to my face as the thought spiraled into considering deepening the kiss, and I pulled away.

"Amy? What?" I snapped, shaking my head. My thoughts were starting to haze up again, probably from the nuclear blush I was sporting.

"I..." Her grin dropped abruptly, her face paling as she hopped backwards and dropped my hands like I'd shocked her. "I'm sorry. I just..."

She'd started hyperventilating. "Stop. Breathe." I held up my hands and took several breaths myself, encouraging her to do the same. I probably needed them, honestly. "I'm not mad, just... what the fuck, Amy?"

"I'm sorry." She said quickly. "I just..." She looked like she was going to start hyperventilating again, so I heaved a quick, loud deep breath to remind her not to. She took a deeper breath of her own and continued. "I don't see you with my power, when I touch you." She bit her lip and glanced to the side, obviously thinking hard, but didn't seem like she was trying to lie. "My powers got weird last night, when I came home and started meditating more. I figured out what'd happened when touching Vicky didn't do anything..." She blushed a bit, but I didn't press. "I checked with Mark and Carol, too. I can just... turn it off now."

I let out a hum of realization. She'd hinted pretty hard that her interactions with other people were hindered by her powers never turning off, which meant things like relationships were almost impossible. I could feel she was emotional, and knew she had been since before I'd gotten to the room. I also knew she was gay, and I was a girl... She'd gotten too excited to contain herself anymore, with how new and life-changing this development was. That made perfect sense.

It had nothing to do with her maybe liking me, I was sure.

Nobody liked me that way. They couldn't. I wasn't pretty or likable enough.

I nodded to myself. The world made sense, again.

"That's great. I can see why you were excited." I gave her a soft disarming smile, and all of the energy seemed to slowly drain out of her. She was getting sad, and I had no idea why. "Hey, are you okay? This is a good thing, right?" I thought for a second. "Oh no, you still have your powers, right?" She hadn't mentioned turning her touch powers back on, yet. Maybe that's what was going on?

"Oh." She muttered softly. She shook her head, and I wondered if we were talking about the same thing, anymore. "No, I can turn it back on. It's fine."

She was definitely not fine. "It's okay. It'll be okay." I muttered as I closed the distance. She pulled away slightly, but didn't fight the loose hug I pulled her into. "Hey, you're not busy Wednesday, right?" She looked at me, confused, and shook her head. "Well we can hang out, see what's changed. Do some power testing. That'd be good, right?"

She was a mass of conflicting emotions I couldn't make sense of, but she gripped me a little tighter, and nodded. "Yeah. That sounds good."

Amy wasn't okay, but she wasn't spiraling into what looked startlingly like depression, anymore. I'll take it. "I need a shower. Meet you at breakfast?"

She nodded, and I let her go. I kept a figurative eye on her while I headed to the locker rooms, and she seemed to be doing okay. A few minutes for a quick shower, and I made my way up to where she was picking at her food. I got more than usual to eat, because I'd skipped food at home, but still gave Amy an apple when I sat down, which got a small smile out of her. We talked about assignments until the bells started ringing, and split off to our classes.

When lunch came around, I made my way to the cafeteria. It'd probably be weird to try talking to Tracy again so soon, so I decided to stay for lunch today. After getting my food, I made my way closer to Vicky's table, and stopped when I met Amy's eyes across the room. Her heart skipped, and she glanced away. It hurt a little bit, but I'd been hovering recently... maybe she needed space. Add in that Kara was sitting with them and I was still feeling a little petty about the last time we'd interacted...

I looked around, scanning the room. I spotted Cassie at her usual table, and I let out a relieved sigh. She was coming to school again, which had to be a good thing. I set my food down for a second, and sent her a text. 'Want to hang out for lunch?'

She checked her phone a couple seconds later, and started looking around the room. When she caught sight of me, I gave a little wave. She froze for a couple seconds, and I could feel the conflict in her emotions, though I had no idea what'd caused it. It'd settled down moments later though, and she seemed to come to a decision. She made her excuses to leave, and picked up the lunch she hadn't even started eating yet.

I met her across the room, at a table with just one older boy who was studying while eating. He glanced up and proceeded to ignore us in favor of his book. It would've been nice to talk outside, but it was still wet out, even if the rain wasn't as bad as this morning.

"Good to see you're okay. I was worried." Her heartrate picked up a little, and some other signs pointed to her appreciating the sentiment, even as she made a noise to that effect. "Do you want..." I paused, feeling her mood drop a bit, and aborted asking about her family. "...any help catching up on assignments?"

"Nah," She said, smiling a little. "My grades are pretty good, I can take the hit. Thanks, though."

Yeah, I wouldn't want my family's dirty laundry aired in public either, now that I thought about it. Thinking quickly, I dug my phone out before the silence could get awkward, and started typing away. "Good to hear, still. Offer's there." Knowing I had to keep talking or she might think I was being pushy, I grabbed for the only big thing I had on my civilian schedule. "Hey, I know you don't do sports, but you're still active. Ever do martial arts stuff?" Typing while talking was slower, and I'd lowered my phone to my lap to look like I'd already sent the message, so when I hit send after I finished talking, I hoped it looked like I wasn't sending it to her.

Her phone dinged, and she dug it out. I knew what it said. 'Family stuff?'

She frowned and tapped a couple keys. My phone beeped at me, but I ignored it while she answered. "Yeah, little bit. Why?"

I shrugged. "Just wondering if you might want to drop by to the practice I'm doing at the gym on Fridays, now." That said, I looked at my phone. Just normal girls doing normal girl things, having two or three conversations at once with entirely different people because phones. Yup.

...I felt like a dork, hoping I looked normal as hard as I was.

Her answer was a simple 'Y'. I started typing.

"I think I heard about that. You sure I'd be welcome?" I fumbled a little, considering it. Kara's group were pretty firmly anti-Empire in particular, weren't they? And they probably knew Cass was at least sort of part of that... shit.

"Yeah, I don't think anyone would mind too much, especially if I said something." 'Wanna talk about it?' Send.

"Seems like asking for trouble..." She muttered, ignoring her phone for a bit before answering. She seemed to catch on to what I'm doing, since she pretended to send her message, then held her phone under the table for a bit before actually sending it.

"Well, Serei was there last time, and you get along with her, right?"

She bit her lip, and seemed to be considering our mutual Asian acquaintance. "I'll think about it." She said, and when that topic seemed dropped, I checked my phone. 'N', she'd sent.

"Well, how was your weekend besides... all that." I asked, hoping to keep her engaged.

She talked about watching shows and movies, and I lied about reading books. We ate while we swapped recommendations, until her phone dinged again. She checked it and sighed, finishing up her food before getting up. "I've gotta run. Talk to you later?" She asked, and I gave her a little wave in response. I dug out my phone as she walked back over to her old table, and typed out another message.

'Well, if you ever DO want to talk, I'm here for you.'

I finished the rest of my food, kicking my feet up and crossing my legs, so my feet weren't touching the linoleum directly anymore. I really didn't want to watch Cass until she replied, which was what'd happen if I didn't. Felt hovery and stalkerish, even if she'd never know.

Food done, I hopped up to drop my tray off. Cassie had already left, it seemed. So I made my way out and headed towards my next class.

Before the repeaters switched off, I got one last text. 'Thanks.' I smiled, feeling better about her situation now that I'd put myself out there for her. I was kind of hoping she did drop by on Friday. It'd be nice to have more reasons to hang out.

Kara had wanted to meet up at a little coffee shop near the Boardwalk, and I'd succinctly responded that I'd be there. At the time I'd wanted to make her sweat, but now it felt a little mean. I beat her there, and I wondered if this was to make me feel more comfortable. Let me scope the place out, pick where to sit, be the one already seated and in control when she showed up. If it was, it was working, at least a little.

When she did show up, she wasn't alone. Two of the girls from Friday were with her. A slightly larger girl a couple inches shorter than me with blue hair, and a thin girl an inch shorter than her with bright yellow hair. Julia and Stephanie, I thought. They made their way over to the booth I'd picked for being out of the way and more private, stopping well within earshot, but far enough to not seem encroaching on my space or hemming me in.

"Thanks, you two. Have fun on your date!" Kara said to the others. Stephanie smiled brightly and started for the door with a wave, while Julia eyed me warily for a second before nodding and following.

Kara smiled at their retreating backs until they made it to the door, then turned her grin on me as she finished the trek to sit opposite me in the booth. "Well, while they're out painting the town green... how have you been?"

It took my brain a moment to parse the incorrect reference, after which I felt my face heating at the implications of what I realized was a double-entendre. "I've been fine." I said, perhaps too quickly.

"It's okay to not be okay." She said with a wry smirk and pleading eyes.

I sighed, gave the question some actual thought, and answered again. "I've been okay, just... busy."

"Good busy, or stressful busy?" Her smirk drooped a bit, her tone slightly more serious.

I shrugged. "Bit of both?"

She pondered that for a second before she nodded, and stood back up. "You want anything?" She asked, waving slightly over toward the counter.

Tea didn't sound very good, and I wasn't sure how well this place did there, anyway. Straight-up coffee was gross, but I wouldn't mind it if it wasn't black. "Something chocolate?"

She hummed and tapped her chin a couple times. "Regular milk, or soy?"

I shrugged. "Regular's fine."

She nodded and strode up to the counter. I heard her order a couple of mocha lattes, and waited while she paid and came back over.

We sat in steadily less comfortable silence, until she broke first. "I'm sorry." She said earnestly, and honestly. "I said some pretty shitty things, and not thinking they'd actually hurt you doesn't make it not shitty." She took a deep breath. "I already said I'd stop flirting with you, and you can ask me anything you want to know about me. Is there anything else I can do to make it up to you?"

I glanced away. I couldn't think of anything I wanted from her. It's not like she had resources I needed, or contacts she hadn't already stuck in my phone, or people she wasn't already trying to introduce me to through our Friday practice. Trying to demand things she might have left a bad taste in my mouth. "Why are you so..." I lifted my hands, trying to be polite, but then giving up and indicating all of her. "You?"

She briefly looked like she was sucking on a lemon. "Someone has to be." Her look transitioned into a pout, and she pinned me with her wide, wet gaze. "Are you sure you wanna know?" She half-whined. "It's kind of a long story."

I raised an eyebrow imperiously, as if daring her to deny she'd offered up anything.

Kara sighed, then shrugged and shook her head. "Well, alright." The raised hands from her wide shrug landed on the table, where one started tapping fingers, and she clicked her tongue while staring off into the distance off to my side. "I was always a big girl." She started finally, "Not fat, just... older than everyone else, and an early bloomer on top of that. Classmates always treated me like I was hot shit, because I was smart, and bigger than them. The teachers listened to me more, because I was closer to being like them, and people pick up on that." She shook her head and sighed. "Sure I got picked on, but not any more than anyone else. I was pretty, decently popular, and bigger than the boys. I wasn't messed with often."

She licked her lips and paused, stalling until her name was called with our order. She got up to collect it, and set our drinks between us before flopping back into her seat.

She spun her cup slowly on the table, watching the steam rise off of it. "Kids grow up, though." I could tell she was irritated. Getting angry, feeling sick. Hiding it well. "Some better than others." She sucked on her tongue, and kept spinning her cup, keeping her hands busy. "Some faster than others. I got all the attention, got boobs first, had hips first, beat most of the girls a year up to it." She tilted her head and took another slow breath, still not looking at me. I had a sinking feeling about where this story was going. "Stayed popular, got all the attention. Boys started paying attention. Got interested in things." She shrugged. "Bunch of boys took an interest, didn't take no for an answer, and..." She sighed, taking a pull from her drink. It clicked back down on the table louder than expected. "They went to juvie. They're out now, but... that's my problem, not yours."

"I'm sorry." I wasn't sure what else to say. I didn't think they let people out that fast for that sort of thing, but they were kids, and I didn't know the system very well regardless.

She waved me off with a fake smile. "Don't be, that wasn't the point." She took another sip of her coffee, and I decided to try mine. It wasn't bad. "It was about then, I realized I had to do things myself to get anything done." Her head tilted a little to either side a couple times. "Take charge, take the lead, and fake it 'till you make it." She shrugged again, and managed a smirk that wasn't quite so wooden. "That's me."

I swallowed, thickly. I grew up in Brockton Bay, and I wasn't an idiot. I'd imagined that sort of thing happening to me in the past, and I'd bet every other girl our age had, too. It wasn't just possible, I'd heard enough horror stories to know it wasn't even that unlikely. Every time I'd thought of it though, it was always the gangs. Always some monolithic evil, souring the world with their crimes and perversions. Other teenagers, though? Classmates? Kids?

"So, the girls...?" I started, trying to move away from the uncomfortable pit my thoughts were sinking into.

"We keep each other safe." Kara said, finally meeting my eyes. "I try to make sure they're smart, trained, connected..." She shook her head. "Tend to settle for 'not stupid', honestly. Stay together, keep fit enough to run, anything more than that?" She shrugged again.

"And that's why you need me for the training?" I asked, trying to piece the rest together.

"I don't need you." Kara nearly growled, leaning forward slightly, fingers tightening around her cup. She closed her eyes, leaned back, and took a deep breath. "Sorry. Sorry about that." She met my eyes again. "People know me. They know what I'm about. A lot of them don't like it. They get scared, or don't like being told they're ignorant, or any number of things. At this point, if I try to do anything big, it's just a spectacle to be watched and mostly ignored."

"But, people know you're behind all this." That was the confusing part, to me.

She rolled her eyes and nodded. "I'm hoping that part gets drowned out after a few weeks. People know you know me, but you're still new enough to make your own waves. Thing about school networking is, only the schemers care about last month. You know me, but you're closer to Amy. She's friends with me, but she isn't part of my clique. Any luck, you'll wind up the head of your own social structure, or if that doesn't interest you, part of hers." I almost pointed out that this would be another case of not giving someone a choice before having her agenda foisted off on them, but she'd known Amy longer than I had. If she still thought that was a good idea, she deserved whatever Amy thought up as punishment. "All I want from you, is what you're already doing. Help people, and be flashy enough about it that you're not stuck in someone else's shadow."

It almost sounded like she was asking me to be a hero. "I don't think I understand."

For a brief moment, it almost looked like she was going to snap at me. She visibly restrained herself, and took another breath. "Sorry. What don't you understand?"

She was still worked up from her story. I'm not sure I could keep my composure so well after talking about the Locker. Maybe it was the distance from it, it'd been years for her, after all. "I'm not sure how I'm supposed to be some... icon, or idol, or whatever. I'm not..." Good enough. Never good enough. "It just isn't me."

Her gaze softened, and much of the tension bled out of her. "Oh, honey. You don't have to be some charismatic master manipulator. Just be you, and never let anyone else tell you what that 'you' is." I knew it was a platitude, and in my case an empty one, but I still felt my face heat up. I still shyly curled in on myself a little. "I wanted your help because I could tell that you're strong. When we met, I saw a shy, adorable geek of a beanpole I wanted to protect. But when I found you and Amy in the gym? You were in your element. You knew exactly what you were doing, no hesitation, no shy awkwardness. You were in control, and you knew it." She leaned forward, over our drinks. I'd started smiling a little, despite myself. "But more than anything, I saw that you were gentle with it. You could've hurt her. A lot of the hack teachers out there would say you should have hurt her, just to drive the lessons home. But you were patient, and kind, and strong." She reached out and poked my chest, well above the slight rise of my breasts. "It wasn't just the strength I wanted you to share. It was the patience and kindness." Her hand dropped and she grinned. "And you delivered. That lesson was amazing!" She sighed, looking wistful. "I'm just sorry it ended the way that it did."

Her words and emotions were out of sync. Not that she was lying, but she wasn't nearly as excited as she seemed to be. It resonated with her earlier words- faking it until she made it. She was trying to cheer me up. Cheer me on. It clicked in my head then, that she was something of a cheerleader. Propping people up, egging them on to do better. To do good. Maybe it was just a stroke of optimism, wanting it to be true, but it felt right, in my gut.

"I'm still not sure I get it, but... thanks." I muttered, and she smiled. "I think, as long as things are just going how they were, that I'll be okay. I can figure out how to deal with anything else when it comes up."

We sat there, sipping at our drinks in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Seemingly out of the blue, she asked, "Are you okay?"

"What do you mean?" I returned, a bit confused.

"I looked into it, after last time. Found out... what happened." The Locker.

My hands seized up around my cup, my teeth ground together, my eyes narrowed as I sucked in a hissing breath.

Of course she looked me up. It'd be stupid not to, after I flipped out at her. I couldn't help feeling slightly betrayed, though.

She backed away in her seat. Not fearfully, but giving me space. I didn't lash out. I could have, and wanted to, but the rational part of my mind was aware we were in a fairly nice and quiet public business establishment that wouldn't take well to violent outbursts. So I waited.

"It was like that for me, too." She said, after giving me a minute. "Everything set me off. School, friends, going outside. I got violent, got put in the system." She paused, brought her cup up like she was going to drink, swirled the little that remained in thought, and set it back down. "I'm sorry I didn't notice. Your composure's pretty ridiculous, considering..." she trailed off with a shrug. "I didn't get shipped off because I had a sympathetic woman judge. I got mandatory therapy, house arrest, home schooling... lasted about half a year. Some community service after that." She sighed and leaned back into my space. I'd calmed down enough to allow it. "What I'm trying to get at is, it might not seem like a good thing, it might seem like you're giving up control or saying that you're weak, but... therapy can help." I visibly bristled at the last part, because that was how it felt. "You're not weak, but you're hurting. It's okay to see a doctor, when you're hurt." I knew, rationally, that she was right. If I were sitting there across from me? If it was her having trouble controlling herself just from having the topic raised? I'd be the one suggesting therapy. I knew it. I just didn't like it.

"I'll think about it." I said finally, finishing off my lukewarm drink.

"Just wanted to put the thought in your head." She said with a nod.

The silence lasted another half minute or so, before I sighed and slipped out of the booth. "I should go... decompress a bit."

She nodded. "Would you mind staying a few minutes?" She asked, digging out her phone. "It's the one time you don't remember safety in numbers that gets you, after all."

I didn't think she'd have to worry, being in a coffee shop and all, but... she had to have her reasons. I nodded and sat back down. She poked through her contacts and dialed a number.

"Hey, Mandy. Could you pick me up? ...Yeah. ...Yes." I could only hear the muffled buzz of talking from the other end, not pick out real words. She glanced at me. "...She's okay. ...alright, see you then."

"Mandy?" I asked, willfully ignoring that they'd been talking about me.

"Amanda." Kara corrected. "Should be here in ten or so."

"Ah." I remembered her, now.

She got up and nodded toward the counter again. "You want another?" When I declined, she bouncily walked her way to the counter, and I could feel her mood improving. She had fun acting silly, and probably needed the emotional boost. She waited by the counter for the drink- some chai concoction- and returned with it when it was done. I spent the last few minutes of the wait actively people-watching around the nearby blocks. Kara only took one sip of the drink near the end of the wait, more out of boredom than anything.

When the slightly stocky girl with short dyed-red hair came in, I recognized her instantly. Kara cheered and hopped up, bouncing over and presenting the to-go cup of herbs and spices pretending to be tea. Amanda chuckled and took it, and the two shared a lingering kiss. I looked away, but could still see it through my feet. Kara turned back and waved, catching my attention. Mandy nodded my way, and seemed to appreciate that I'd waited with her girlfriend.

Kara seemed to struggle internally for a second, before striding back over. "Remember you've got my number. Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

I nodded and forced my small smile a little wider for her. She waved again and the two left, heading a block further away from the Boardwalk to where Amanda had managed to find a parking space for the little car they got into. I sat there for a few more minutes, my mind drifting, going back over the conversation, considering what she'd said... stamping down the shy jealously at the pair's casual intimacy, and the thoughts of how no one could ever want me the same way that trailed after it.

In the end I sighed, turning in my cup and heading out the door. I'd blocked off the rest of my day for letting off steam just in case, but now I just felt drained. Still, might as well finish up what I meant to do today. I sent dad a text that I was heading off to clean up my mess in the Trainyard so I didn't feel like going back until the Merchants were cleared out. I told him I was going to run, wasn't going to fight, that he didn't have to worry. I wasn't sure what to make of his short replies, but hoped he was taking it well. He hadn't asked me not to go, after all.

The bus home was just like every other ride home. I swapped my school things out of my backpack, filling it with my cape gear and spare clothes. Then I walked a few blocks east, waited for the coast to clear, and hopped the fence to a backyard where the only occupants were busy on the wrong side of the house to see me. I changed into my temporary cape gear and hoisted my bag again, taking off at a run and then kicking up a tailwind to sprint the last dozen blocks to the Trainyard in under half a minute.

When I got there, I stashed my bag on top of one of the warehouses, and started making my way between the piles of junk I'd left out. I'd hoped to have them recycled, and was still hopeful I could have that done someday, but for now leaving piles of what was essentially weak steel plating for Mush to grab up? Fantastically terrible idea.

So I got to work burying them. It had to be deep enough to not be easy to get to, but not so deep they could never be dug out without my help. I had to dodge underground lines and the few sewer tunnels in the area, which took a bit of thought in a couple cases. Still, it wasn't even an hour before I was done. I still had the rest of the day, and was already here... I decided to get one last round of work put in. I could bury the trash fast enough if I saw someone coming, after all. I spend a couple noisy hours working through the backlog of looted or empty crates, before the repetition really started getting to me. I hadn't set out to practice or train, after all. No feelings of backing out or giving up to contend with, today.

It was still relatively early in the day, even though it was starting to get dark out. I didn't want to just go home. So I grabbed my bag and headed south. I didn't really have anywhere in mind, so I just kept going until I found something interesting. When I hit the commercial sector, I stopped. This was the ritzier part of town, with Medhall, the Towers, and the shopping mall. All of it was deep in Empire territory, and they discouraged serving non-whites, but if you ignored the racial monochrome, it was one of the better parts of town. I wound up poking around a bit, doing the stereotypical 'super' thing of finding a few taller buildings to climb and perch on for a bit while inspecting the skyline. It was a nice view, but I didn't see the appeal when I could get something similar standing on the hills bordering the city.

After finding an alley with no obvious cameras to de-cape in, I started meandering my way home. One house a few blocks away caught my eye on the trip, though. It had a pair of cars out front, and another pulled up on the curb. It was the guy struggling with a large package that'd caught my attention. A crate with a large dog inside. That wouldn't have seemed too out of place with pets being a thing, except a casual sweep of the house revealed a dozen more.

Who needed that many dogs? And why keep them caged up?

I stopped walking, turning my full attention on the building. That was when I realized two of the people in one of the back rooms were wearing masks. Both men, both seemed to be heavy masks... Metal, animal shaped. If these were Hookwolf and Stormtiger, the weird bucket thing next to the woman they were with made a bit more sense. Cricket, said to wear a cagelike helmet.

The problem was, I wasn't sure what to do with the information. Dad didn't want me fighting, and as strong as I knew I was, the thought of fighting fucking Hookwolf was still daunting if only by reputation. I was sure I could take him, but the collateral damage from the fight would be absurd to bring to a residential suburb like the one they were in. My best bet was an ambush, and the only things I could think of would destroy the house and probably hurt the dogs. I could just sink the whole thing into the ground, but that might be too slow if I was trying to keep it intact.

The stalemate I found myself in was incredibly frustrating. I wanted to stop them, but I realized I didn't care about fighting them. I pulled out my phone and considered my options. I'd called the non-emergency line last time, maybe I should try the emergency line? I dialed and waited.

"PRT Emergency." The crisp deep tones came less than two rings in. I was so surprised by it that they continued. "Please state your name and the nature of your emergency." Right, if you're in immediate danger, you're still supposed to call 911. This sort of line assumed there was time for names.

I still spent half a second hesitantly humming out an 'um', unfortunately. "I'm Terraform. I'm... not in danger, but I found something?" When he told me to go on, I nodded. "I found a house full of dogs, with some people in masks. I think it's Stormtiger, Hookwolf an-"

"Do not engage. Do. Not. Engage." The man barked in my ear. "If you're still near the building, move away."

I stuttered a bit more before I could speak. "Oh, I'm not fighting. I'm not even near there anymore." I'm not stupid, I wanted to say, but that'd be unproductive.

"Good. Please continue." I heard typing in the background as I started walking again, and he'd gone from sounding distant but professional to deathly serious. I suppose the situation called for it.

"Right, I think the people in the masks were Stormtiger, Hookwolf, and Cricket. There were a few more people, but it was mostly dogs." I gave him the address, after that.

"Anything else?" I told him I didn't have any other useful information. "You did good, reporting this instead of running in and getting yourself killed."

"What's going to happen, now?"

"Can't say." The man said, hesitance creeping into his voice for the first time. "The important thing is, that it's our problem now. We're aware of it now thanks to you, and we'll find a way to use this information. Your job now is staying safe."

"I guess..." I muttered. "Thanks." The call ended after the basic 'good evening' exchange, and I stopped to stare at my phone for a bit. That... didn't feel as good as it should have, I think. I shook my head and sped up, soon enough passing near Arcadia and where New Wave lived. It was definitely edging into 'evening' by the time I got near home.

I slowed again, inspecting the car in the driveway. There was someone in it, and two people in the house. Dad, and someone older, with a weird metal cane. My thoughts ground to a halt in realization, and I sped up again. I stopped by the fancy looking car to find a young woman in a crisp but inexpensive-looking suit in the driver's seat. She gave a little wave when she looked up from her phone and noticed me standing between the car and the house door. I returned it awkwardly and made my way inside.

"In here." Dad called from the kitchen, and I dropped my bag on the way there.

He was sitting at the table, coffee in hand. Across from him sat a thin figure in a much nicer skirtsuit than the woman from the car had. Her hands rested on the cane in her lap, her back straight with rigid, immaculate posture. I stared at the whitening gray hair in the low bun behind her head, giving way to sharp hawklike features under a thin coat of sagging wrinkles as she turned to look at me. For a moment, all I saw were the hints of familiarity that made my chest ache, before I met the woman's hard gaze.

"...Hi, Gram."

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Dalxein

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Threadmarks Interludes Compilation B New

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Dalxein

Dalxein

LocationOregon

Feb 11, 2020

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#133

"Trouble in Paradise" really doesn't feel complete without the couple interlude snippets that came after it, which are the last ones here.

I named it after that last one, after all, then felt like it was just more and more perfect as I went back up and edited the original update.

Anyway- Interludes.

Starting Update 14 to Update 22

WED FEB 9

Sophia was walking home with Emma, talking about the 'outing' they had planned for tonight, when her phone rang. She looked, recognized the number, and cursed.

"Sorry Ems, I've gotta take this." She held up the phone. "Meet you at your place?"

"Sure thing, hero." Emma said with a bright smile, and headed off, already grabbing her own phone to call for a pick-up. She was getting in shape, but still didn't like to work if she didn't have to.

Sophia chuckled, and answered the phone. "What?" She snapped.

"Piggot wants a report on what happened at Winslow." Her handler said without preamble. "To that girl in the locker. Filed by tomorrow, or you'll get punishment duty."

"What the fuck?" Sophia hissed, confused. "Why the hell would Piggy even care?"

"Someone out of town is looking into it, and your report isn't on file."

"Why is it a PRT thing in the first place?"

She heard a sigh from the other line. "Because I pulled rank, when your name came up."

"What?" Sophia deadpanned.

"The police had you as a person of interest, and Dragon's written up programs that scan files for Wards names, and alert the appropriate people. For you, that meant me. So I covered for you."

"I didn't ask you to do that!" She snapped.

A rueful chuckle from the other end. "I know, but they were going to finger you for it, all the evidence was there if they wanted to piece it together."

"Who cares? It's just Hebert. No one cares what happens to her."

"Piggot cares, because she hates you." Her handler sniped venomously. "Just file the damned report, keep your head down, and pray that girl didn't trigger." The line went dead.

Sophia sneered at the phone when she pulled it away. So Hebert was coming back to haunt her? She spent a few minutes plotting out how everything would shake out, depending on what actually came out of this.

This was fine. Predators could roll with the punches, even if they didn't see it coming.

She still needed to pay Hebert back for their last meeting, too.

Sophia smirked, and brought up her contacts to make a call.

"Hey Ems? Change of plans."

TUE FEB 15

Hebert had gotten weird. Emma said she'd never been a morning person, which threw their stakeout Thursday morning through a loop when she left right after they showed up. This is why you always show up hours early to a stakeout. They knew Hebert went to Arcadia now, and used bikes to beat her there. Then they took the time and checked the routes she could have taken. She didn't have time to stop anywhere off the path, and Emma knew there wasn't any coffee places or the like along it. They were late to class, but neither cared.

Friday they'd staked out a couple places along the path between Hebert's and Arcadia. The routes were 'safe' enough that sheep like her wouldn't bother varying it up often, so all they had to do was pin it down a bit. Sure enough, she passed by both of them.

The weekend they'd spent planning plans B, C, and D, in case things went wrong. Monday was another stakeout along the route, which came up hits again.

Now though, they'd decided to follow her. They were confident in her path, and had plans to break off every now and then, bracket her on either side along other streets for a bit, then meet up to make it less likely they'd be noticed. Hebert's pace made that hard to manage reasonably, though. They'd only bothered once before things went to shit.

All of a sudden the girl froze and stared at them, like she recognized them. Sophia was pretty good with 'hide your face' disguises, but she had nothing on Emma when it came to cosmetics. By the time she was done with them, Sophia had been confident you'd need to know what you were looking for to tell who they were. The fact that Hebert managed, without even looking right at them until after she'd been spooked?

That stunk of Thinker bullshit, to Sophia's training.

Then the girl moved.

They tried to keep up, but Hebert was gone. The only plus to the situation was that the direction she'd cut down was heading away from Arcadia, which meant she was turning again. So they followed, slowing down so Sophia could watch the ground for signs. Kicked up puddles from last night's rain, bubbles in the damp from pounding feet, scuff marks to indicate a turn... she hadn't found anything until she saw footprints in the grass. She reached down to confirm they were recent, then saw how spaced they were. Running, long legs, high speed. The kind of thing you saw with high level sprinters.

She made her way to the fence the steps led to without deviating. The house was a couple meters away, no way to parkour off those walls without leaving prints, so she checked the barrier itself.

The fence was a rickety old thing, meant to give the illusion of enclosure, rather than actually provide the home any defense. The uselessness of the thing affronted Sophia on a personal level, but that wasn't what she was focused on. She took a hand to the worn, weathered wood, and drug a nail over it, leaving a bright, lighter mark in the grain. She checked all along the top of it, but found nothing. Double-checking the tracks in the grass, she could only conclude that Hebert had leapt the damn thing, not even bothering with a handhold.

A white girl with no training having two-meter vertical ups? Not fucking possible.

Hebert was definitely a cape.

"Shit." She muttered.

Emma came up behind, having lagged to catch her breath. "Is she..?"

Sophia tilted her head side-to-side, not really a shake, just a need to move while thinking. "Plan B, I guess." She said after a few seconds.

Ems sucked in a hissed breath, but nodded. "Alright, I'll start getting things ready." She was sad, Sophia could tell, but so was she, at least a little.

The two headed off, separating to handle their own parts of the plan. They didn't lend any thought at all to missing school to do it.

It wasn't like school would matter anymore, anyway.

Winslow / FRI FEB 18

She checked her phone for the third time since she got to school. She was hidden away in one of the nooks she'd found Taylor hiding in, once. Better than the bathrooms, everyone wanted in there before class, and better than up on the roof where the druggies were doping up to breeze through the school day in a stupor. The cafeteria was dangerous. She couldn't be seen sitting with Julia, because Stephanie hated her, and couldn't sit with Stephanie because she'd cheated on Darren, who was now dating Caroline, who was the new up-and-comer vying for a spot at the top of the bitch heap, and nobody liked her, except the jocks fucking her. Too dangerous to cross them, yet.

And those were just the factions she knew had a shot at the top. Jessie and Conner had been front-runners last week, until Jessie was pulled from school to have an abortion, and Conner was shot for being gay. Kristie, Valerie and Natalie all had followings big enough they had to be appeased, but not big enough to push for the top yet, Madison thought.

If only Emma would answer her fucking phone.

The bell rang. No way in hell was she messing up her chance for a transfer to Arcadia by letting her grades slip. Even one absence could cost her, now that she wasn't coasting on Taylor's stolen homework. She grabbed her bag and held it in front of her, holding it for comfort, and so her hands would be too busy to check her phone again.

On the way to class, the loud bang of a locker being slammed startled her into stopping and looking behind her. She almost panicked when one of the brutes down the hall's eyes locked on hers. Startle the sheep, pick out the prey. A tactic Sophia'd used more than once. She watched his blue eyes rake down her body, hidden as it was. Saw his blonde hair, bleached even brighter, cut short enough it didn't wave when his head moved. Saw the smirk on his face when his eyes came back to hers. She turned and kept going. Had to run away. Had to get away.

It wasn't just the cliques that were bubbling up in a roiling mess just about to burst.

The gangs were acting up, too.

They knew the social cliques were shifting, the neutrals were faltering, dying out. Up for grabs.

Madison made it to class without any other hassle. She couldn't be seen freaking out. Couldn't let her breath hitch and catch. Deep breaths, slow breaths. Useless to whichever clique took top spot if she was seen to be weak. She just needed to wait until she knew which one was going to win.

She was running out of time.

She sent Emma another text. The girl's family said she was staying with Sophia. Sophia's family said they were staying at Emma's. She didn't know what was going on. She'd checked the hospitals' records, but hadn't found either of them there. Nor in the police records, arrest reports, mental hospitals... She'd checked for transfers, and only found Taylor's. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, she hated it wasn't her that had an easy life at Arcadia now. On the other... at least someone got out. Even if it was the meat she'd had to help beat down to earn her keep at the top.

A place that was crumbling, so much faster than she'd thought possible.

She had to pick a side. It was only a matter of time, of days, before the school forgot she'd been at the top once. She grabbed out her notebook, jotting down the things she knew, the rumors she'd heard since getting here. The seating arrangements in her class. Whatever she could remember of her run to class. Everything could be important, for figuring out what to do next. She didn't have Emma's natural talent for this. She'd have to make due.

Everything was so much easier online. She didn't have to worry about who anyone was, or what they could do, or what they were thinking. She didn't have to honestly consider being some Empire thug's bedwarmer just to stay out of the Merchant's drug dens, or the ABB's brothels...

She checked her phone again.

She missed when the world made sense.

She missed when she felt safe.

God help her, she was even starting to miss Taylor.

FRI FEB 18

Vicky and I managed to beat Carol home, despite how late we were getting in. Mark was in the basement doing his thing, and Vicky immediately charged up to the bathroom to claim it for a shower. I shook my head and smiled at her antics, before heading upstairs to read until she was done.

Partway through a particularly lurid chapter, my phone dinged. I checked my phone, finding a new message from Kara on PHO.

Neon_Rainbow (9:38PM): I fucked up.

I sighed. I could just see her moping at her computer. So I got up, started mine from sleep mode, and clicked through to the chat.

CarmillaCantEven (9:40PM): It *is* Friday, huh?

Neon_Rainbow (9:40PM): Oh that cuts deep.

Neon_Rainbow (9:40PM): Not even pretending and asking what happened.

CarmillaCantEven (9:41PM): You made Taylor cry.

CarmillaCantEven (9:41PM): Was pretty fucking obvious.

Neon_Rainbow (9:41PM): I'm sorry.

CarmillaCantEven (9:41PM): Tell Taylor.

Neon_Rainbow (9:41PM): I did.

Neon_Rainbow (9:41PM): She just shut down. Not sure she heard me.

Neon_Rainbow (9:41PM): Don't want to bother her tonight about it.

Neon_Rainbow (9:42PM): Also don't have her PHO handle.

CarmillaCantEven (9:42PM): Pretty sure she doesn't have one.

Note to self. Help Taylor get her 'Terraform' account and verify it. A quick check showed it was taken, but the user hadn't been active in over a year. I'd need to brush up on the rules for claiming dead accounts if you've got a valid claim to the name. With the revolving door to the morgue some cities were for young indies, there were a lot of dead accounts lying around. I turned my attention back to the chat.

Neon_Rainbow (9:42PM): Really?

Neon_Rainbow (9:42PM): That seems weird to me.

Neon_Rainbow (9:42PM): But yeah, didn't want to ruin her night trying to say sorry again.

Neon_Rainbow (9:42PM): It can wait until tomorrow.

Neon_Rainbow (9:43PM): Or Monday.

CarmillaCantEven (9:44PM): You sure she'd want to hear it?

Neon_Rainbow (9:44PM): No idea. I hope so.

CarmillaCantEven (9:44PM): What even happened?

Neon_Rainbow (9:44PM): I don't know.

Neon_Rainbow (9:44PM): I didn't tell her I could fight, so she jumped to thinking I was using her to teach the girls?

Neon_Rainbow (9:44PM): It didn't seem like a big deal, so I told her I wasn't sorry...

I groaned, rubbing my face with both hands, trying to comprehend how badly Taylor would actually take that.

Neon_Rainbow (9:45PM): Ran right under a brick sack full of trust issues I didn't know was there.

Neon_Rainbow (9:45PM): And now I don't know if I can fix it.

CarmillaCantEven (9:45PM): Maybe stop trying to *fix* people?

Neon_Rainbow (9:45PM): I just want to help...

CarmillaCantEven (9:45PM): You're a whole barrel too much for most people, let alone the ones with actual problems.

CarmillaCantEven (9:45PM): Maybe lay the fuck off?

Neon_Rainbow (9:46PM): Are you saying I'm a tall drink of water, or calling me fat? D':

CarmillaCantEven (9:46PM): Yes.

Neon_Rainbow (9:46PM): :

Neon_Rainbow (9:46PM): Anyway, I already told her I'd stop with the flirting.

CarmillaCantEven (9:47PM): Good. *Please* tell me you didn't do anything to make it worse? Say anything else? You know you get intense sometimes.

Neon_Rainbow (9:47PM): Shit, yeah. Mentioned the empire fucks. Said they'd shoot me if I tried to manage solo.

I took a deep breath, got up from my chair, and went downstairs to steal some of Carol's aspirin. It was looking to be one of those kinds of nights.

Neon_Rainbow (9:49PM): Amy?

Neon_Rainbow (9:50PM): You there?

CarmillaCantEven (9:52PM): Shut the fuck up, I'm medicating.

CarmillaCantEven (9:52PM): You have no idea how bad you fucked up.

Neon_Rainbow (9:52PM): Explain, please?

CarmillaCantEven (9:52PM): Taylor has a hero complex.

CarmillaCantEven (9:52PM): You just told her you need saving, after making her hate you.

After a couple minutes of no replies, I imagined she was stewing pretty poorly.

CarmillaCantEven (9:54PM): You fucked up.

Neon_Rainbow (9:55PM): I fucked up.

CarmillaCantEven (9:55PM): You also told her you were painting a target on her back, with the empire stuff.

Neon_Rainbow (9:55PM): Oh, bullshit. She's your best friend. An *outed hero*'s best friend. I remember the rules. She's untouchable.

CarmillaCantEven (9:56PM): Tell that to my aunt.

Not aunt Sarah, of course.

Neon_Rainbow (9:57PM): Shit. Sorry.

Neon_Rainbow (9:57PM): Bad night.

Neon_Rainbow (9:57PM): You know what I mean though? It's family rules. No one wants another example made of them for breaking that.

CarmillaCantEven (9:58PM): Please tell me you told *Taylor* that?

I waited, imagining her slamming her head into the wall next to her desk. It was oddly cathartic, now that the pills were taking the edge off my growing headache.

CarmillaCantEven (9:59PM): Fix your shit, Campbell.

CarmillaCantEven (9:59PM): Full disclosure.

CarmillaCantEven (9:59PM): Tomorrow.

Neon_Rainbow (10:00PM): Kill me?

CarmillaCantEven (10:00PM): Ask Taylor.

CarmillaCantEven (10:00PM): I'm done with you, tonight.

I closed the chat window, rose from my desk chair, and flopped down onto my bed. There were no new notifications from my phone as I let the stress drain out over the course of several minutes. This was broken by a knock at my door, to which I grunted. It opened, and I turned my head to see Vicky- clad only in a towel and a healthy blush from the hot water, another wrapped around her hair- standing in the door.

"Hey Ames, shower's free." And with that, she floated away toward her room.

Oh yeah, I knew what I was doing in the shower tonight. I deserved it, after Kara's bullshit.

In the end, mine almost lasted longer than Vicky's had.

TUE FEB 22

I sighed as I slid down into 'my' chair in the hospital's upstairs break room. A pleasantly squooshy thing set in one of the far corners of the room, I hadn't found anyone else using it after the first month or so after getting my powers and starting to heal here. There was another in the other corner, but this one was mine. I groaned as I lifted myself back up into something vaguely approximating proper posture. There was the table in the center, with standard meeting room chairs around it. A few pictures lined the walls, and a few fake potted plants dotted the floor. Part of why I liked this break room so much was its lack of windows. Past the rest was the entrance door to one side, and the fat extension to the 'L' shape of the room on the other. A countertop lined the entire far wall from where I sat, continuing into a little kitchenette where the overnighters could make their own food when the cafes and kitchens closed for the night, or whatever other reason. I stared at the line of coffee pots, wondering if it'd be worth it to get back up to get some, but dismissed the thought.

I was comfy, dammit.

With a herculean effort, I grabbed my phone instead of drifting off to sleep. If someone caught me sleeping, they might send me home early, and I'd have to deal with Carol being 'disappointed' again. I fully intended to stay as long as they let me, and then collapse into bed as soon as I got home. An entirely different sort of disappointment from Carol, but thankfully one that was tomorrow Amy's problem, unlike all the other options.

I dismissed a few messages, until I found one from Kara, from half an hour ago.

'You okay? You looked like shit, at lunch.'

I snorted, and tapped out a reply. "Didn't sleep. Kissed Taylor. Found out she's straight." I muttered out loud. Send. Let her choke on that for a hot second.

'No she isn't.' Popped up shortly thereafter. 'She's hurt, not straight.'

I frowned, and asked her how she knew that.

'SECRET! Don't give up! You can bag that hot set of legs if you give her some time and help her realize she's still bi.'

"Is she drunk again?" I muttered, then put words to text to ask.

'Do these look like the words of a sloshed woman? Your. Girl. Is. Not. Straight. Never give up. Never lose hope. I'd bet your virginity on it.'

I snorted, but couldn't help the smile, or the heat in my cheeks. My alarm going off distracted me from my thoughts, and I dragged myself to my feet. Then I trudged over to the coffee machines, pulled a thermos out of the cupboard underneath, and poured myself four cups worth of caffeine sludge, before capping it and pouring a fifth into a proper cup. I pulled a quarter of it and hissed as the heat and bitterness hit me.

Still, as I went back to the grind of mending thankless assholes because I'd be a monster not to, I never lost that little smile.

TUE FEB 22

Not for the first time today, Cassandra Herren wondered why the everloving fuck the Merchants decided now was the perfect time to get their dank panties in a twist. She was high in the air, and her costume was only so water resistant. She was cold and miserable, and oh yeah.

There was a fucking Endbringer due any day now!

Kaiser never failed to drag at least half their capes to deal with them. Not the fights, never the fights, thank God, but she'd seen what each of them could do. This would be her first time back at the same Endbringer's mess, since she was too new to the group for the first one since she joined. That was still three too many dead cities she'd never unvisit.

She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts. No sense dwelling on it. It'd happen when it happened, and she'd be border guard with the rest of the fliers anyway. Safe in the air, watching to make sure none of the poor fucks caught in the Smurf's way managed to get out before they could put up the fences. The heroes could handle guarding that until the proper walls were up.

It was times like these she was sad she'd had to quit smoking. First her uncle tried to make her quit because 'you can't run while you're hacking up a lung', then having to hide it around the family because they took a dim view to smoke damage and burn marks, and now living with Kathy 'I will fucking whip you if you stink up my house with that shit' Herren...

She sighed. That wasn't fair to Katherine. Cass knew she was just lashing out from feeling stressed and cranky. Kathy was a sweetheart, she just had ideas about her white-picket-home and cigarettes had no place in it.

So, here she was. Floating up around the ABB / Merchant borders, watching the fights on Kaiser's orders. She couldn't even use her phone to pass the time and just keep an ear out, with the rain. Just barely wet enough that she might slip and drop the thing. Sure she could use her power to hold it, but that did weird things to touch-screens if she didn't manage to tag the right part of the case, and only that part. She was sure Kaiser knew, and that's why she got the shiny cutting-edge one after last time, instead of the durable waterproof one she wanted.

Fucking asshole, throwing money in her face just to watch her choke on it.

It wasn't like there was anything to see, either. She wasn't supposed to care about anything but cape fights, and none of either gang's capes had been seen since the weekend. It was about when she thought that, that she heard a crash that couldn't have come from anything mundane.

She listened for the crashes or explosions that would've followed a mundane crash that loud, just in case.

Not hearing anything for a while, she waited until there was another crash, and followed it. Two more crashes later, and she was floating high above the Trainyard, pulling her binoculars up from where they hung around her neck. It took another crash, but she found it. Some cape was... crushing shipping containers?

It took a second for her to recognize the powers, and her blood ran cold.

Terraform.

Taylor.

She still wasn't sure what to think of that dorky girl that kept trying to be friendly with her. Half of her was sure the girl knew she was Rune, and was trying to make her go straight. The rest just thought she was an idiot with no social skills. Some lost puppy that had no idea how the world worked.

Cass was a gangster. Rune was a supervillain. Taylor was a gawky nobody. Terraform was a hero.

There should have been no point of friendly interaction between them, but...

The idiot was just so fucking endearing. Like a little kid you wanted to lie to about how the world was, just so they wouldn't cry. Or get themselves killed. ...or both. Taylor just kept trying to be friendly, and push her way into Cass' life, or now pull Cass into hers, with that stupid martial arts crap.

Cass could brawl, and that was good enough.

If only the part that wanted to go would just shut up!

She wasn't allowed to have friends. She had contacts. Acquaintances. Patsies. Everyone either hated her, tolerated her, or wanted to use her to get ahead in their gang. People weren't allowed to just... like spending time with her.

It was so fucking confusing.

Cass didn't care about the Empire. They were just some big money her family were sucking up to. It was her family that she'd never be able to get away from. They were great now, but she could see the writing on the walls. Soon enough she'd be older, and the family would want more connections, and she'd get married off.

The best she could see right now being Theo. At least she could train that doormat.

She knew her power wasn't great. It was strong, but had its tiers. Usually her power was overkill, a bad impact at the wrong place? She'd killed at least a dozen people by now, all of them accidents. She had fights she was fine with, but then the threats immediately shot right past what she could handle. The narrow band where she was useful just didn't pop up often. Ironically enough, Terraform fell right into it.

Cass was sure that time she'd beaned her would have killed a squishy normal.

She barked out a sad laugh. What, was she planning on playing rivals with the same girl she was friends with while the masks were off? That'd be fucking retarded. Good for a laugh, though.

...so why was she crying?

She sniffled and floated away. There was no way she could drop down there and talk. Either she'd get attacked for being a Nazi, or... what? They'd just be chummy for no reason? Oh! She knew! She'd just tell Taylor who she was! There was no way that could end poorly!

...goddamn did she miss having peers. Everyone at school was either beneath her or hated her, all the normals in the E88 were either scared or brown-nosing, all the capes thought she was just a kid that was only good for a ride once in a while...

...she missed having boyfriends.

The only people stupid enough to touch her were the idiots who didn't remember what happened to the last guy Derek caught her with. All the good ways to blow off steam weren't allowed. No cigs, no drugs, no sex... They were supposed to be fucking supervillains! What was even the point if she wasn't allowed to have fun!?

She made it to the warehouse where she was keeping her stuff this week. She didn't care what Kaiser thought, she was taking the rest of the day off. She stripped out of her wet costume, shoving it into a bag and toweling off before putting on something dry. A nice waterproof coat on top of it, and she started the walk home.

...home. Kathy's house. Her and Derek. They were nice enough. Kathy was a sweetheart homemaker who just wanted to be a mom, Derek was an asshole with the stolen skills to pretend not to be unless you had to live with him, and her? She was stuck. The Empire just owned too much of the city. They had the cops, Medhall had the Mayor and administration in their pockets, they were the biggest cape group in the city, had the most money and manpower...

She didn't care about the Empire.

But she hated being trapped.

It took her years to see it, but this gang? This city? Her family?

It was just a bigger cell. Pretty gilded cages. Fake freedom full of chains.

Her power let her fly.

She just wanted to be free.

...she just wanted a choice.

She made it home, stuck her damp coat on the rack, tossed her bag of soggy robes into the laundry room, and slumped her way into the living room. She could hear Kathy puttering away in the kitchen, and knew Derek was busy wrangling the rest of the Herren boys today. She didn't want to watch TV, didn't want to read... she pulled out her phone, and checked through her messages. Suckups, fake friends, PHO threads she couldn't give a damn about... she clicked back through her texts, and her scanning stopped when she found Taylor's.

Just a girl, who wanted to be her friend.

'I'm here for you.'

She wiped her eyes again. Maybe she would drop by to their stupid fucking martial arts thing. She had no idea what the colorsquad would think of her, though. Probably try to push her away from Taylor, convince her she was just another Aryan breeder. Cass didn't care what they thought. Despite herself, she found she did care what Taylor thought, though. How to get her point across without burning too many bridges?

An idea struck her. Oh, Derek was going to hate it. He'd twig on it almost immediately, but he wasn't allowed to beat her, and if she made it into a bonding thing with Kathy? Half the girly things Cass did were because she didn't care one way or the other, and the rest because they made her cousin happy.

She hopped up and went to the kitchen. Kathy was working a rolling pin on some dough, baking pies or something. Absolutely covered in flour, and loving every second of it. She glanced over when she heard Cass come in, and the girl cringed a little inwardly. Kathy was still wearing that stupid eyepatch with the same rune on it that she wore in her Othala costume. Her hair was up to keep it out of the flour, and it usually covered the patch itself... but how that woman had the audacity to walk around the city with that thing on, Cass had no idea.

She cleared her throat to hide her feelings on the matter. "Hey, Kath?"

"Yeah?" The homemaker asked, setting her things aside and rubbing her hands on her apron, accomplishing precisely nothing with the action, as covered as both were.

"Do you... would you mind helping me dye my hair?"

Avatar Taylor (Worm Quest)

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MON FEB 21

Rosalind wasn't impressed by the sights of the city, as the car crested the hills on its outskirts. Compared to the likes of Boston and New York, it was always something of a particularly uppity fishing town. The downward spiral after the riots was inevitable, probably would have happened regardless, though taking decades instead of years to achieve the same results. The bits that weren't run down or worse were drab and mediocre. Even shining Medhall and the Protectorate ENE were on par with the average for America's great cities, at best.

As they made their way into the city proper, she went over the news articles and forum threads she and her assistant had found over the weekend to prepare for the trip, one last time.

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Topic: Turf War XIX: These subtitles aren't funny anymore

In: Boards ► US ► East Coast ► Brockton Bay

Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted on February 6, 2011:

Hornet's nest got kicked again. ABB VS Merchants, by the look of it.

Skirmishes breaking out all across their borders. Only good news is, no cape fights yet. Current theory is payback for Lung killing Brick, but this doesn't mesh well with the Merchant's 'hold ground or fall back' MO. Looking into what sparked off a Merchant land-grab, but details are sparse.

The E88 are suspiciously quiet so far, too.

EDIT: Rumor is there was some sort of truce on, and the Merchants claim the ABB broke it.

EDIT2: Okay, so the E88 are being quiet about their expansion, just walking in and tagging new blocks unopposed for now.

EDIT3: Apparently Lung's out of town, which might explain everyone's boldness.

(Showing Page 42 of 42)

► Reave (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Fighting near Washington and Hazel. Stay safe, people.

► 10K_GUTS

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Broheim_ Dragon always takes back what's his, whether we like it or not. You'll see.

► FestivityBeast (Cape Geek)

Replied on February 21, 2011:

keep telling yougyys lungs NOT STUPID hes git something planned stop edging on that moth father!

► Broheim_ (Temp-banned)

Replied on February 21, 2011:

10K_GUTS Say that to my face, chink.

► Assssault (Unverified Cape) (Cape Geek)

Replied on February 21, 2011:

You okay there, FestivityBeast?

Someone take Fes's happy juice before he hurts himself again! D:

► SerialPuncher

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Assssault or breaks his phone to kill his autocorrupt.

Moth Father. XD XD XD

► Judge (Moderator)

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Cool it down, Broheim_

Come back tomorrow.

► Glory Girl (Hero) (New Wave)

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Assssault SerialPuncher can you NOT right now?

Found three bodies in that park on Charleston. Merchants.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 40, 41, 42

Topic: Locker Girl's Revenge?

In: Boards ► US ► East Coast ► Brockton Bay

Cronchborgor (Original Poster)

Posted on February 19, 2011:

Hey, so those girls who shoved that one girl into her locker haven't been seen in a week.

I thought that whole thing fizzled out? Hadn't seen any cops since the first couple days, but maybe something happened.

Anyone know what's going on?

Is locker girl dead?

(Showing Page 1 of 1)

► StompsMvGee

Replied on February 19, 2011:

Sounds like BS. I bet nothing happened.

► Shrewdinger (Unverified Rodent)

Replied on February 19, 2011:

I dunno man, cops came by after school a couple days ago. Probs something up.

► SpecificProtagonist (Cape Groupie)

Replied on February 19, 2011:

Oh, shit.

► WereNewt (Cape Geek)

Replied on February 19, 2011:

I think I heard about that. Sounds fucked up.

► XxVoid_CowboyxX (Temp-banned)

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Hey, I know her! That's [REDACTED]!

I wonder if she got powers from the locker? What sort of powers do you think they'd be?

► SpecificProtagonist (Cape Groupie)

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Seriously not cool, void.

► WereNewt (Cape Geek)

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Wish I could punch people through screens, right now.

► Alathea (Moderator)

Replied on February 20, 2011:

THREAD LOCKED

XxVoid_CowboyxX, you should know better than to pick at secret identities, even if you don't know they're a cape. What if the gangs kidnapped her over your insensitive post? Sit in the corner and think about what you did for a while.

This whole topic is asking for trouble. Removal pending.

End of Page. 1

Topic: Spitfire

In: Boards ► US ► East Coast ► Brockton Bay

Assssault (Original Poster) (Unverified Cape) (Cape Geek)

Posted on January 8, 2011:

As ENE's resident Cape Recruitment Officer, (self-appointed, TYVM) I must say this new prospect is a rather hot commodity!

Rumor has it she can breathe fire! No word yet on any other powers.

Come on, new girl! Join the good guys! We have cake! And pensions! But mostly the cake!

EDIT: Powers confirmed to include fire immunity.

EDIT2: She's on record as 'Spitfire' now. Thanks mods for the thread title change.

EDIT3: Aww, I think she's taken. Oh well, I'll get the next one for you, Miss Director, Ma'am!

(Showing Page 45 of 45)

► Tim20

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Still don't get what the big deal is, she spits fire in the same city as Lung. Everyone's already as fireproof as they're going to get.

► Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Rumor has it she's been seen around Faultline's crew.

Spitfire, any confirmation on a teamup?

► Assssault (Original Poster) (Unverified Cape) (Cape Geek)

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Bagrat Aww man, really? That sucks.

► CarlCalamatous

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Tim20 Never underestimate thepower of fire!

The soloution is ALWAYS more fire!

► Spitfire (Verified Cape)

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Bagrat I'd prefer not to say, right now.

► The Great Gingoro (Verified Stage Magician)

Replied on February 21, 2011:

That sounds like a yes to me!

► SpecificProtagonist (Cape Groupie)

Replied on February 21, 2011:

I ship it.

► DockWalkers

Replied on February 21, 2011:

CarlCalamatous Please not in my damn city, thank you.

► Spitfire (Verified Cape)

Replied on February 21, 2011:

SpecificProtagonist Eww

The Great Gingoro No

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 43, 44, 45

Topic: Terraform

In: Boards ► US ► East Coast ► Brockton Bay

Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted on February 18, 2011:

Our newest hero has decided on a name! And being the Guy (in the Know) that I am, (and in desperate need of some good news around here) I've started a proper thread for her.

She's a young woman, probably Wards age, and has been tentatively rated as a mid-level Shaker/Blaster combo. Her thing is elemental powers, and yes she is the geokinetic who's been running around for the past week or two.

(Showing Page 1 of 6)

► Glory Girl (Hero) (New Wave)

Replied on February 18, 2011:

I wonder if she's considered joining New Wave?

► GingerVitis

Replied on February 18, 2011:

First!

EDIT: FUCK

► GameOfPwns

Replied on February 19, 2011:

GingerVitis Haha, get wrecked.

► Calypso42

Replied on February 19, 2011:

Stay safe, hero girl!

► Assssault (Unverified Cape) (Cape Geek)

Replied on February 19, 2011:

Glory Girl No poaching! D:

► Vista (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied on February 19, 2011:

Maybe she'd like the Wards? It'd be great not being the only girl on the team anymore!

► CarmillaCantEven

Replied on February 19, 2011:

Glory Girl

Not everyone likes the spotlight, remember?

► Clockblocker (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied on February 19, 2011:

Vista What about SS?

► SpecificProtagonist (Cape Groupie) (Threadbanned)

Replied on February 19, 2011:

I wonder if she's single, and what her preferences are…?

► Vista (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied on February 19, 2011:

Clockblocker Unlike you, I think I know a girl when I see one. ;P

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

(Showing Page 2 of 6)

► crashb0t

Replied on February 19, 2011:

SpecificProtagonist Eww, isn't she still a kid?

► Reave (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied on February 19, 2011:

One of these days, we'll figure out how you get these scoops of yours, Bagrat…

Can confirm she met with Armsmaster the other night, and claimed to be uninterested in joining any teams right now, but did affirm her status as a hero.

► Shadow Stalker (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied on February 19, 2011:

Vista What, jealous little kitten finally big enough to get herself spayed?

► RSThis

Replied on February 19, 2011:

I think I saw her running around the other day.

Girl needs new threads.

► Assssault (Unverified Cape) (Cape Geek)

Replied on February 19, 2011:

Vista Ouch, brutal. XD

Shadow Stalker Not cool. Do I need to report you to the boss-lady?

► SpecificProtagonist (Cape Groupie) (Threadbanned)

Replied on February 19, 2011:

Crashb0t Hey, everyone has their ways to handle stress. Some people smoke, or drink, or play video games, whatever.

I write TerraXVista lewds I'm never going to be allowed to post anywhere. That's how I'm dealing with the difficult time I've had for the past couple weeks.

What I'm trying to say is, gimme the deets!

► Needs_More_Cowbell

Replied on February 19, 2011:

Wait, was she the one that stared down Victor last week?

► Alathea (Moderator)

Replied on February 19, 2011:

Shadow Stalker Take the sniping somewhere else, it's off topic.

SpecificProtagonist That is about three flavors of not okay too many. Three day threadban.

► Steve488

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Needs_More_Cowbell Fake news

Victor's never solo. Either he's got at least Othala for another cape, or at least a dozen guys with him. No way some newbie would scare him off.

► Lenzflare

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Pretty sure he did have Othala and Rune with him, and still left.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

(Showing Page 3 of 6)

► Glitzglam

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Needs_More_Cowbell No, it was definitely her.

► Stardust16

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Wait, wasn't Panacea there, too?

► Assssault (Unverified Cape) (Cape Geek)

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Stardust16 That sounds like a great question for the Panacea thread. :D

New girl's got chops, though! I like her already!

► Purple Fox

Replied on February 20, 2011:

But if she was with Panacea, does that mean she's joining New Wave?

► TragicAlpaca

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Purple Fox Didn't someone say she wasn't joining teams?

► SerialPuncher

Replied on February 20, 2011:

NW is kinda meh anyway.

Eight capes sure, all busy with school and day jobs.

Maybe she's biding time before going villain?

► GingerVitis

Replied on February 20, 2011:

SerialPuncher NO! Bad! No more villains!

She's a good girl!

► Lady Photon (Hero) (New Wave)

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Terraform is not affiliated with New Wave, no.

While I'm here, I did see her, at the end of that conflict with Victor, Rune, and Othala.

Sorry, but I don't have any more details.

► Purple Fox

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Well shit, it's Photon Mom!

Lady Photon Hiiiii!

Kinda' sucks she isn't joining a team though, indies don't last long.

► SerialPuncher

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Ahhh

Don't beam me, photon mom D:

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

(Showing Page 4 of 6)

► CarlCalamatous

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Wait, can shedo fire?

► Aegis (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied on February 20, 2011:

I met up with her earlier, along with Dauntless, and I've got to say, she's actually really scary. I'm glad she's a hero.

And yeah, she does fire. Lots of fire.

► CarlCalamatous

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Sweet!

► SerialPuncher

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Aegis come on, man, you can't just leave us without details!

► All Seeing Eye (Unverified Cape)

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Didn't even talk about her starting her own team? ;D

► GingerVitis

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Wait, she is?

► Stardust16

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Good for her.

► Calypso42

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Glad she's getting a team.

► StanInLaw

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Yeah, gonna have to agree.

Aegis we need details.

► Aegis (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Not sure what all I should say.

Like she keeps saying, classic elements. Water, fire, earth, wind. Scary with all of them.

REALLY glad she's on our side. D:

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

(Showing Page 5 of 6)

► Snugaloo

Replied on February 20, 2011:

AMA soon?

► Lenzflare

Replied on February 20, 2011:

I don't think she has an account.

► The Winged One

Replied on February 20, 2011:

She seems nice.

► All Seeing Eye (Unverified Cape)

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Aww, it looks like Terraform hasn't logged in for almost a year.

Oh well, name's up for grabs, right?

► Purple Fox

Replied on February 20, 2011:

All Seeing Eye That is completely disrespectful! What if they're a dead hero?

The Winged One You think everyone is nice. XD

► The Winged One

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Purple Fox They usually are. ^_^

► MoistOwlette

Replied on February 21, 2011:

So, just gotta put this out there because no one else is bringing it up...

Do Stormtiger and Lung have something they need to tell us?

► Stardust16

Replied on February 21, 2011:

MoistOwlette

First? Eww.

Second? Eww

I don't think she's a dragon or a nazi.

► Steve488

Replied on February 21, 2011:

But is she Asian?

Aegis Did she sound Asian?

► Purple Fox

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Steve488 Are you really asking that?

Bearing in mind that I'm replying to a thread where someone implied the topic cape is a Nazi butt-baby.

I really hope TF never reads her thread, now...

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

(Showing Page 6 of 6)

► MoistOwlette

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Purple Fox

You just got to type the words 'nazi butt baby' unironically.

You're welcome. ;P

► Alathea (Moderator)

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Steve488 No prying into potential cape identities.

MoistOwlette Take your weird kinks back to the cape fic subforum, and please remember there are reasons most people don't write villain fics. Don't drag that into some new cape's thread.

► MoistOwlette

Replied on February 21, 2011:

*Hisses and flees*

► Aegis (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Steve488 Yeah, I don't feel comfortable answering that.

► Steve488

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Yeah I'm sorry. That was a stupid way to ask that.

Aegis So ARE her wind powers anything like Stormtiger's?

► GingerVitis

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Aegis Did she sound cute? ;D

► Stardust16

Replied on February 21, 2011:

GingerVitis Ugh, stop it

Why are the boys always horning on the girl capes? Especially the underage ones?

► Purple Fox

Replied on February 21, 2011:

Stardust16 Boys are gonna boys, girlfriend. DX

Steve488 I'm more interested in those earth powers. I wonder what all she can do with them? Her name kind of implies that's her main power, after all.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

It was unlikely Taylor was this Spitfire girl, what with joining that mercenary crew… She closed the threads on her tablet, one by one, finished by the time they made it to the hotel she'd be staying at. She waved the driver off to unload, as she made her way up. It was a woman, of course. Rosalind always hired women for close personal positions, if she could manage it. It made her feel like a queen, surrounded by a coterie of handmaidens. Assistants, drivers, and especially bodyguards. A professional woman was less likely subverted, in her experience.

She'd wondered, on idle nights, if this habit of surrounding herself with strong women had anything to do with Annette's... tendencies. In the end, she decided it couldn't have been foreseen, if there was something to it.

The rest of the afternoon was spent making calls to reiterate meeting plans for the morning. No reason not to check on local investments while she was here, after all. That most of these investments were months, even weeks new, was irrelevant. She needed a local power base, to support her granddaughter with. All of it would be Taylor's eventually, though she'd long given up the thought of grooming her granddaughter as a proper heiress, habits died hard. Attempts would have to be made. If they failed? She'd just leave the plans in place as they were.

Taylor would never want for much in life, even with a fraction of Rosalind's estate, and the local investments. The majority would go towards a trust, and set towards doling out trust funds to any of Taylor's biological children and grandchildren, ad infinitum. Of course, there was always the chance that Taylor would wind up a spinster, or- given her mother's college habits- end up one of the gays. That would just mean doling money out to predetermined charities instead. Assuming she didn't squander what she did receive regardless, Taylor and any non-biological children would still be comfortable for the rest of their lives.

TUE FEB 22

After a morning of meetings with companies she'd invested in with local offices, a stop in at Medhall to get the Cliff Notes presentation of their last few board meetings from one of their stooges, and tours of the local hospitals politely groveling for donations- which they would receive, if only small polite ones- Rosalind turned her attention to the crux of her trip to Brockton Bay.

Hebert worked a 9-to-5, so she'd invited herself to their home at 6. They found his beat-up old truck in the driveway, and she let herself out. Her driver could entertain herself for a while, and as Rosalind made her way to the door, she did indeed catch the young woman idly tapping away at a smartphone out of the corner of her eye. Her usual driver was at least refined enough to keep books on hand for times like these.

The home itself wasn't much to look at. It might have been a fine, if quaint little place at one point, but the chipped paint and unkempt shrubbery did it little service, and she poked her cane through the rotten step in front of the door with disdain. Her own blood, living in squalor like this? It was just shy of infuriating.

She took a deep, steadying breath. This was not the time for anger. That could come later. She stepped over the hole in the stairs, and knocked on the door with her cane. It took at least a minute too long for Hebert to answer the door, and when he did, his face tightened nearly to a grimace, and she sneered right back.

"Oh, you." He muttered, just barely loud enough she heard it. He gave a grumbling sigh and nodded his head towards the interior. "Come on in."

Rose let herself past him, and he shut the door behind her. She remembered where the kitchen was, and led the way there, seating herself, before her lips thinned as he took a seat across from her. "Not even going to offer a beverage?"

He shrugged. "You're welcome to my coffee if you want it, but Taylor's the tea drinker. You want a proper cup, you'll have to wait for her to get home."

She wasn't sure he was even aware of how many slights he was making against her, and decided he probably wasn't intentionally spitting on her primarily English heritage. She gripped her cane in her lap, and let out a breath. No use holding the low-brow to her standards when Annette clearly hadn't bothered to train him properly. "This is fine." She lied. "Where is Taylor?"

"Text she sent me said she was out training. She'll be home in a few hours, unless you want me to call her?"

She thought on it for a moment, but perhaps this was advantageous. "Soon, perhaps. I did have some questions." He grunted and nodded, so she continued. "What have you been doing for her?"

She'd done her research into the Heberts once she'd learned of Annette's marriage, of course. Her husband to be was the temperamental troubled child of a violent alcoholic ex-sailor. Bad stock from a bad home. It still amazed her that she'd never gotten any reports of the man beating his wife, with his temper and her headstrong nature. But, Taylor seemed happy enough, so the man had at least continued his trend of self-control at home.

Daniel was a middle-management union worker in a dying city, though. The amount of real aid he could give a budding cape was limited, even making broad and generous assumptions with his connections and resources. She was curious what he'd managed to do with what little he had, though.

His fists clenched white at the implication that he hadn't been sufficiently providing for his daughter, but the fight drained out of him quickly enough. "I've tried to be her sounding board. Keep her making safe choices. She doesn't want to join any of the established groups, but she's willing to make her own team." He shrugged. "I felt pushing her towards that was a good idea. Keeps her safer, makes the city better, it's basically a no-lose proposition." That it was also what Taylor wanted was telling, and she wondered how much control the man actually had over his daughter. "Her hero costume should be done, soon. She wanted to start doing more PR work when it is, and I was thinking about putting in word to the city about some of what she can do. Not sure I can actually pull it off without painting that there's a non-professional connection between us, though."

"It's good that you've held off on that." She said, tapping a thoughtful pattern on the table. "I'm here, officially, in response to my granddaughter's recent trauma. If I make donations to the local police and New Wave under the premise of making the city safer for her, it wouldn't seem odd if I show some support for a new independent hero or her team. Even less so if I'm seen making overtures to that local mercenary group or the PRT." She'd done her research on Faultline, and the woman wasn't willing to take jobs in their home city for anything less than an exorbitant amount several times her already high regular rates, which Rosalind wasn't currently willing to pay. "Generalities are our strength here, making sweeping gestures of aid and support for all lawful capes and their projects, and including hers in the mix. We can focus on direct support after we've made connections with her cape persona through these overtures."

He made a noise somewhere between a reluctant hum and an impressed grunt. "That's a good point. We need to think long-term." He paused to rub the stubble on his chin as he thought. "Taylor's agreed to not start any fights or get in over her head for now, and I believe her, but that'll only last so long before something happens and she thinks she has to act." He pulled the hand from his face and waved it in a helpless half-shrug. "We don't have forever. She says her powers get stronger with training, and that they're tied to martial arts. I've been setting her up with some of the guys who know that stuff, and a couple people I trust with contacts of their own." He slumped slightly in his chair. "She's confident. really confident. I just..." He choked slightly on the words, growing quiet and looking away. Taylor's leash was a long one, it seemed. Good to know, if disappointing.

Perhaps a small mercy? "Tell me about Lustrum." Rose said, changing the subject.

The man across from her flinched. "Ah, hell..." He quietly grumbled, rising to his feet and making his way over to the coffee pot. "How do you take it?" He asked, grabbing a pair of mugs.

"Black is fine." If the drink was going to be substandard anyway, it might as well do so as predictably as possible.

Hebert poured the pair of mugs, and brought them back over to the table. "What do you want to know?" He asked with more strength after the short break to gather himself.

Straight to the point. "Is Taylor in any danger from what's left of her following?"

The man rubbed his chin for a couple seconds. "Honestly, probably not." He took a pull from his mug. "Annette told me once, that she thought maybe a third of Lustrom's gang managed to go to ground and get away. Sadly, pretty good numbers from the Law's point of view. Big gangs like that, you're usually lucky to get half the foot level hands with the leadership, when they're taken down." He stared into the mug for a moment, lost in thought. He shook his head and continued. "Still, it was more than a decade ago. The only ones still in prison should be the leaders, the ones who they could prove were involved in the actual violence, and the ones that were especially belligerent at their trials. Most of the gang itself is back on the streets. People like that are watched, though. More than that, they know they're watched. Without someone like Lustrum ro rally around, they won't even be talking to each other."

Rose nodded, that matched up with what she knew of the situation. "Good enough. What about local threats?"

He gave her a shrewd look over his mug. "I feel like I'm being tested. You've already looked into all of this, haven't you?"

As undignified as it was, she rolled her eyes. "Of course I did. You are a local source, however. I want to hear the state of the city in your words."

He thought on that, and clicked his tongue. "Right, well... on the topic of Lustrum, a few of her people came back here after they got out, or after things calmed down. Some never left. Annette only talked to a couple of them, from what I knew. They'd keep eyes on each other though, just to make sure nothing the others did came back on them." He took another drink, eyes wandering in thought. "Shouldn't have any trouble from them."

He paused, then took a deep breath to start again. "The big gangs in town are the Empire and the ABB. The biggest cape group in the city, including the heroes, is the Empire 88. White supremacists, neo-Nazis, rednecks, anyone white enough with nowhere else to go..." He shook his head sadly. "Lot of people, lot of capes. Rumor is they've got connections to other groups around the country, and at least one overseas. Every time they start losing too badly, they always get new capes from somewhere. They might try to recruit Taylor, if they think she's white. Although, she's already had one fight with some of them, so they might skip trying." He stopped to tap the table as he thought. "They spend most of their time posturing, trying to look big and important. Most of their business is kept quieter; money laundering, gun running, racketeering... they have some fighting rings with people and dogs, and a little bit of drug peddling, but that's about as loud and obvious as they get when they're not fighting."

His hands clenched around his mug, and he sighed. "The ABB, on the other hand... they're the loud ones. Demanding protection money, running brothels... word is, full of girls they snatch off the streets. I've heard they have a couple casinos somewhere... They're the ones between everyone else. The empire on one side, the heroes on another, a couple little gangs... they hold all that with just a couple capes. Lung is... by far the strongest cape in the bay. No one fights Lung, if they can help it." He shook his head and sighed again. "They get away with a lot, because of that."

Rose watched him lapse into silence, and took a drink of the coffee he'd gotten her. It was cheap and stale, but not the worst she'd ever had. "And what about these 'little gangs' you mentioned?"

He perked up, surprised for a moment. "Well, up north there's the Merchants. Drug peddlers backed by a few capes, they're pretty quiet. If you're not Asian enough for the 'Asian Bad Boys' or too homeless or not white enough for the E88, chances are you'll wind up with the Merchants at some point. Don't tend to hear from people like that again." He tapped the table again. "There's another gang down south, past the slums. I only know about them because some of the Dockworkers live there. Mostly thieves, but I've heard a few disappearances are on them instead of the Asians. I don't know how they keep the ABB out, but between them and the Protectorate helping guard the airport down there? Somehow they manage it." He said with a shrug. "Half the reason I want to get the ferry running again is to stop people having to go through the slums and risk getting mugged, or leave the city just to commute around it to stay safe. A lot of the services bringing tourists in from the airport go the long way around, even." his voice was raising by the end of it, and he'd raised his hands to start gesturing the points. He seemed to catch sight of them and pause, groaning as he rubbed his face for a moment. "I'm sure you don't want to hear me go on about the ferry..."

"Maybe later." Rose acceded. It could be useful to have a strong bargaining chip with the man. "You were saying?"

"Right..." He took a beat to gather himself. "That's the gangs that've stayed around. There's always some thieves or normal gangs popping up under the big gang's feet, but they never do much or last long. You mentioned Faultline's crew earlier, but I've never heard of them doing anything around the Bay. Always jobs abroad." Or things he hadn't heard about. "They shouldn't be a problem either."

The conversation shifted to business, after that. A summary of how the Dockwokers were doing, his opinions of various business around the city, including several Rose had investments in, and his take on the City Administration's dealings of late.

And yes, she did let him prattle on a bit about the ferry he wanted to get working again.

All told, it was maybe an hour before they heard the door click unlocked and open.

"In here." Hebert called, heaving a small sigh of relief that he hid behind a pull from his mug.

She heard the rustling behind her, and turned to find the willowy girl staring. She looked so much like Annette. Thinner and taller, but still as gawky as her daughter had been at that age. She had her father's eyes and chin, but the nose, lips, and cheeks were familiar.

"...Hi, Gram." Taylor sounded surprised, meek, not a little bit terrified.

Rose could feel her stern countenance soften slightly, as she took in the sight of her daughter's daughter. They hadn't met in person since before Annette died. She took a deep breath to tamp down the ache in her chest, as she nodded to the girl with a slight smile. "Hello, Taylor."

Last edited: Feb 12, 2020

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TUE FEB 22

"...Hey, Gram."

I bit back a flinch at how squeaky that sounded. I wasn't some terrified little girl about to get scolded, even though Gram had always invoked those feelings in the past, on some level. Whenever she'd visit, there'd be this underlying tension, like she wanted to dole out lashings for every little thing, but was deferring to mom. Always mom, never dad.

I had no idea how long they'd been here, together, alone, but neither seemed like they'd been screaming, which... high bar for positive interactions, there. Dad looked fine, Gram looked... less stern, now.

"Hello, Taylor."

Right. Talking. Deep breath. Stop panicking. Why was I panicking? I thought, while I took my time making my way to the table. It took a bit before it clicked. Mom. Gram was mom's mom. I was scared this wouldn't go well, and I'd lose another link to mom.

I took another calming breath as I sat down. "So, how was your trip?" I felt stupid the second the words left my lips, but at least I'd said something.

"Adequate." The old woman nodded. "I'm not that far away. It was about the same time by car as it would have been waiting in the airports."

I knew Gram wasn't 'owns her own private jet' rich, but I'd always thought of first class being quite a bit faster than otherwise. It was possible I was wrong, since I'd been too young to remember it, the last time I'd been on a plane. Ironically enough, I think it was Gram who picked up the tab for that vacation to celebrate mom graduating and getting her teaching license.

"And how long are you going to be staying for?" I asked next.

She shared a brief glance with Dad, and seemed amused. "That eager to be rid of me?" She asked, turning back to me. I sputtered out denials and she smirked. "Don't worry, dear. I think at least two weeks, no more than four." Her smile smoothed into her natural glower. "Don't want the board getting ideas." She mumbled to herself. When she caught me looking confused, she added, "The people are quick to say that politicians and lawyers are the worst of the worst, but at least they are predictable. A businessman will buy the power of the others, and you never know what they're going to do with it."

I steadfastly ignored that she was a businesswoman. "Right..." I muttered and forced a chuckle. "And you're... in town for business too?" I was hedging, but Gram always seemed like the sort to make every hour of her time count, and every trip add at least two or three irons to the fire.

She shared a glance with dad, who was sitting there quietly, sipping at his coffee. I wasn't sure what to make of the two apparently being in cahoots about something. It seemed so unlike them. "Yes. I've already done my preliminary rounds through businesses in the area I have investments in, now I'm going to focus on scouting new investment opportunities, and personal projects." I was about to ask what sort of 'personal projects' but she must have seen it coming. With a smirk, she cut me off. "I've discussed a rough plan of action with your father, and it includes a bit of targeted philanthropy. The plan does assume you're not interested in simply leaving Brockton Bay, but..." I could tell Dad's hands were tightening around his cup as she spoke. She seemed... smug and determined? She didn't show it, but that's how she felt. Dad was a tense, anxious, angry mess, but hiding it fairly well. "I have to ask. Would you be willing to move somewhere safer? Perhaps New York, or perhaps private schooling in an area with lower Parahuman activity?"

I gulped. This might be it. Her putting her foot down and making demands. "No." I said, trying to inject as much calm firmness into my voice as I could.

"Are you sure? There are any number of commuting and training options available, and-" I held my hand up to stop her. I could tell she was actually, honestly worried about me, but it was tempered to an edge by something uglier I couldn't place. I didn't like the calculating glint in her eye when she started trying to list benefits. A moment's thought and a large part of me balked at the idea of being bought away from my home.

"No." The word was firm and laced with anger as I repeated it. "This is my home."

I could feel the cogs turning in her mind, flashes of emotion behind her stony glower, betrayed by the intensity of her dissecting stare. She took a deeper breath, quiet and hidden but for my senses, and her eyes closed as she started to exhale, some of the tension leaving her without her posture shifting at all. I let my hand drop then, and she nodded. "I can understand the sentiment..." Dad visibly slumped a little as he came to realize there wouldn't be a fight over this. Gram's eyes opened and snapped to mine, a touch of silent pleading leaking into her gaze. "I know there's at least one private institution in the area, a more regimented learning environment could do a world of good for-" she trailed off about a second after I'd raised my index finger between us.

"I don't want to go to Catholic School." I was feeling more confident. She'd already shown she wasn't going to insist on everything, which left me feeling like I had the power here. I still tried to keep it out of my voice though, speaking calmly but firmly. I didn't want this to sound like an argument. I knew in her shoes, I'd try to win any arguments that came up. "I already talked to dad about it, and we decided on Arcadia. I'm not even religious, and I'm making friends again." I couldn't help the emotion there. It still felt... I'm not sure 'wonderful' or 'amazing' or 'surprising' fit, but... it felt good to feel wanted, at least a little, despite my every instinct still trying to disbelieve it. "I want to stay where they are."

Her eyes took on that calculating mien again. I could feel the swell of emotions within her, frustration, indignation, disappointment, but it died down and left the woman sadly thinking. "A young woman's social ties are one of her most significant assets..." She closed her eyes and nodded. "We have days to catch up, you'll have to tell me about these friends of yours, at some point." The demand was soft and conversational, but I knew small talk was a weapon for social types, and Gram was rarely a woman of idle words. I nodded, and she very slightly responded with her own. Her eyes unfocused for a moment. "Where was I?" She clicked her tongue and took a deeper breath, giving another, deeper nod. "Targeted philanthropy. I'm going to be making donations to local services; the hospitals, police, fire department. I will not be making a donation to the Protectorate or PRT, to make a point."

She was angry, and I didn't understand it. "Why?"

Gram gave dad an incredulous look that mirrored her frustration well, but hiding the slight shock and surprise I could feel. Dad felt a bit contrite, but shrugged and held his ground in their silent argument. She sighed quietly and turned back to me. "Shortly after you were hospitalized, the PRT took control of the investigations into your case. I was not able to find out why, but they appear to have not made any significant effort to investigate the case, and no effort to find non-parahuman culprits."

"What?" I muttered, feeling shocked and numb, but I could feel a bubbling swell of rage and betrayal trying to claw its way out of the pit my emotions had fallen into. I turned pleading eyes on dad, who glanced away.

"The police... said they were taking the case back up. You've been a lot happier lately. I didn't want to bother you with it."

I took a deep breath. I was getting angry. I took another. I wanted to scream. I took another. They were starting to feel worried. I held the next one, clenching my hands until they hurt, and my eyes to stave off the rage-tears trying to escape. I let it out slowly, turning red eyes on dad. "You should have told me." It took effort to keep my voice calm, but less than I was expecting.

Dad looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end, he just grabbed his coffee again and nodded.

"As I said, I have no intention of supporting them for the moment." Gram said, cutting through the mood. "I'm going to make a point of supporting the other heroic groups in the city, including yours once you've gained some publicity. For now this merely entails a donation to New Wave, and attempts to open dialogue any more neutral groups."

"Amy's family?" I asked, slightly confused as my mind latched onto that detail. Gram quirked an eyebrow at me, the gesture imperiously demanding elaboration. "Amy's been my best friend since I started at Arcadia. Vicky's my friend too, but..." I trailed off, shaking my head. The details didn't matter. "They're the Dallon sisters. Part of New Wave."

Gram hummed, her eyes focusing into the distance as they regained that calculating intensity. "Interesting." She softly stated a moment later. A few seconds after, she met my eyes again. "Amy is... Panacea, yes? The healer who can see biology?" I nodded, confused again. "Very interesting. I'll need to keep that in mind." I could tell she was tapping her fingers along the cane in her lap, an outward expression of her intrigue and thought. "Regardless, I'm also going to be looking for new investments, and overseeing the existing ones while I'm here. I'd like it if you'd accompany me for some of these events, Taylor."

I cocked my head quizzically. "What? Why?"

Her tiny smile grew into a wry smirk, and I could feel she felt slightly conflicted. "I will not be here forever, Taylor. One day you will inherit part or all of my estate. While you could always leave its management to your executor, it would be in your best interest to learn as much as you can for when the time comes."

"Executor?" I knew that basically amounted to 'the person you trust to do things you can't', since mom had an executor for her will after she died, I wasn't positive I understood it completely in this context.

Gram looked like she'd sucked a lemon, flares of indignation and dissapointment drowning out everything else. "You can think of them like an accountant, or an assistant. They are paid to manage an estate, including properties, finances, taxes, and in some cases investments. They are almost always lawyers or family members, and have only the authority you give them. "

Okay, about what I thought, then. I nodded. "Can I think about it? It's just going to some meetings, right?"

She stared for a moment, before nodding. "Meetings with the bank to facilitate payments, transfers, buyouts... meetings with small companies to negotiate... the most high profile meeting I have planned is with Medhall. I've received permission to sit in on next month's board meeting."

I choked a bit. "Medhall?" Wasn't that run by Nazis?

She nodded, seeming confused by my shock. "Yes, dear. We own three percent of Medhall Pharmaceuticals." I goggled at that, staring at her with my mouth just slightly agape. "It may not sound like much, but it's rather significant for a non-founder in this sort of market."

"That's crazy." I muttered. Gram couldn't possibly know the CEO was apparently Kaiser. How many of his company's top people were sympathizers? Or capes? If I went to the meeting, would I wind up meeting Kaiser? How many of his capes would be there? Would they recognize me?

I slid my head into my hands, leaning on the table. Gram and dad both asked if something was wrong, or if I was okay. I waved them off. "I'm fine, just... a little overwhelmed." At this point I just wanted to lay down, try to sleep, and just decompress after all that'd happened today. How to ask Gram to leave politely, though? I shook my head and pushed myself to my feet. "I'm going to start on dinner. Do you want to stay, or...?"

She seemed to politely consider it, but I already knew her answer. "I think I'll decline, tonight." She lifted the metal cane from her lap and set it on the floor to help push herself to her feet. Something still felt off about it, but I couldn't tell what. "I will be by again tomorrow afternoon, after you'll be free from school." She said to me, before turning to dad. I could tell she still didn't like him, but she didn't seem to hate him. She gave him a small nod. "Hebert."

I led the way to the door, letting her outside. I saw her driver hop to action, nearly scrambling out of the car to open the rear door for Gram. When she was seated, and the young woman powerwalking back to the driver's seat, I gave gram a small wave, and got an obvious inclination of her head in return.

After that, I made my way back into the kitchen, intentionally ignoring dad.

It took him nearly half a minute to try and say something. "Taylor..." He choked after that, the words failing him.

"I'm still mad at you." I said as I kept checking what we had available and grabbing pans, never turning to properly acknowledge him.

"I'm sorry." He said, a few moments later.

I paused very briefly, before I kept cooking. "I know."

He reached a hand out toward me, his mouth parting open slightly. He felt confused, sad, a little shame. The hand dropped. His mouth closed, and he grit his teeth. He really wasn't very good at being sad, but didn't want to be angry with me. He softly slid the chair away from the table and made his way upstairs to find some busy work, to feel useful.

I didn't think he remembered I could see every bit of that, even turned away from him.

Dinner didn't take long to make, and I took mine up to my room to eat at my desk. It was probably cold by the time dad went down to get his. I spent a couple hours studying ahead, but gave up after that to try and sleep off my bad mood.

WED FEB 23

I got up early, getting ready for school and avoiding dad. I'd cooled off a lot overnight, but I still felt like being a petty teenager. I still left dad some food when I made breakfast, though. I wasn't heartless.

Amy sent me a text while I was on my run, asking to meet up at school. She said she wanted to talk, and wouldn't try to kiss me this time. I ignored the flutter in my chest when I thought this didn't prevent me from kissing her, tamping the feelings down. Amy didn't like me that way, and could do way better than my emotional mess of a self, anyway.

I still wasn't thrilled by the thought of rushing to meet her, though. In my grasping for something to do before I headed in for my shower, I remembered the deal I'd made with Sue and her gang. Might as well get a head start on that.

"Hello, Taylor." Sue said after she picked up. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Sue." I said, stretching as I cooled down from my run with a walk around the school. That it'd keep the conversation more private was nice, too. "I was just thinking, I said I'd…" How to phrase this? Should I even bother trying to obfuscate being a cape over a cell phone? "…do a bit of work, and I was wondering about that. Maybe around the tenement, or some other building, sometime?"

Sue hummed. "Arthur was talking about sniffing up the blueprints for the building and poking around a bit… could step that up. Maybe next week?"

I hadn't made any plans for next week yet, so... "Yeah, that sounds good. Let me know when he's done, and we'll set a time." I was actually a little sad at how short the conversation was. I hadn't even made it behind the school yet, which meant I'd probably just head into the gym and take the tunnel to the locker rooms from there, instead of looping around to the main entrance of the school and taking the long way like I'd planned.

"While I have you," She said just before I could start the 'goodbye' dance. "We've found a place for that meeting you wanted to have." It took me a second to figure out she meant the independent capes I'd asked her to look for. When I gave an affirmative noise, she continued. "Does Sunday evening work for you?"

"Yeah, sure." I said immediately. "So, does that mean...?"

"We haven't found anyone yet, no." I hummed disappointedly. "A few have online accounts that are easy enough to contact, but Jake's the one trying to wrangle those, and I haven't talked to him today." I guess that made sense. Sue was pretty savvy for someone who looked at least sixty, but didn't seem like the internet type. It hadn't occurred to me to just... find them on PHO or email them. "We can talk about that more when we start on that work we talked about."

"Sounds good." We said our goodbyes, and I hung up, pulling the water from the morning's mist and light rain off my phone before I stashed it in my pocket.

I wound up heading through the gym after all, taking the quick trip to the locker rooms for my morning shower, then I headed up to the upstairs classroom where we'd been having our clandestine meetings.

She was there, deep in thought. The bags under her eyes weren't gone, but they were looking better. She probably slept for the first time in days last night. She perked up when I came in and shut the door. "Hey, Taylor." She muttered.

"Hey. You... wanted to talk again?" I asked, girding myself for whatever it might be this time.

"I just..." She stopped, hiding her anxiety behind a clearing throat. "I was just wondering if..."

Oh no, was this a confession? Did she actually like me or something? There was no way she didn't have a whole host of prettier, less damaged options if she wanted them. I was gearing up to tell her I wasn't good enough, when her words caught me short.

"I want to join your team."

Wait, what? "But... what about New Wave?"

She scoffed, her emotions turning dark. "What about New Wave?" She spat, and I started sputtering, trying to articulate anything through my startled confusion. She grew a bit pensive when she saw my reaction. "The only reason I've stayed with them as long as I have is because Vicky's there, and I had nowhere else to go. Your team's a good 'somewhere else' and Vicky..." Her heart picked up as she glanced to the side, feeling conflicted and agitated. "I'm not sure how I feel about Vicky right now."

"Amy," I said, reaching out, before I paused and let my hand drop. "It's a big decision. Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I don't think I would've stayed anyway, after I turned 18. Vicky's..." She shook her head. "Dean has been talking about moving, for college and... other reasons." She felt conflicted, but I couldn't begrudge her other people's secrets. "It's what a lot of their fights have been about, recently. I think... he's starting to win her over on moving in with him, when he leaves." She felt... outright distraught over that, barely holding herself together well enough to mostly hide it.

"You could always go with her." I tried, which drew a sad bark of laughter from her.

"No way Carol's going to let their precious PR pinata get away, she doesn't even trust me when I'm living under her thumb, out on my own? Never." She shook her head again. "And I'd just wind up moving in with Vicky, and..." She felt disgusted at the thought. She really didn't like thinking about Vicky and Dean...

I swiftly crossed the room when she started to sniffle. "Hey," I said, catching her in a half-hug. "It's okay. You can join my team. The more the merrier." It was a good start, me, her, and- "You can even meet..." My mouth got away from me before I realized it. Amy glanced at me suspiciously. I chuckled. "Well, I've already got a teammate lined up, remember?" I couldn't actually remember if I'd told Amy anything about Dinah, but she nodded after a second. I checked my phone. It was still before 8 so Dinah shouldn't be in class yet... "I'm meeting her on Saturday." I held it up. "Do you want me to call and see if she's okay with me bringing you, too?"

Amy looked confused for a second, then shrugged and nodded. I dialed the number and waited. Dinah picked up, yawning into the phone and muttering a confused, "Taylor?"

"Hi-" I choked on her name. Right, cape stuff. "Uhh... remember when you said we'd have three capes on the team this week?" Amy stiffened next to me, her eyes going slightly wide.

"Yeah?" Dinah mumbled, still confused.

"Do you think it'd be okay if I brought her by Saturday, so we could all meet?"

"73%" She replied instantly. "That's... actually better than I thought?" She gasped a bit, then stuttered out an apology. "I... erm, mom can be... sorry."

"It's okay, she probably wouldn't like me bringing friends over when I'm supposed to be tutoring you, huh?" Amy looked somewhat thoughtful, as I said that.

"Who... is it?" Dinah asked, her shyness creeping back into her tone.

I glanced over to Amy with my actual eyes this time. "Do you mind if I tell her who you are?" Amy looked confused, probably at being given the choice at all, before she shrugged. "It's Amy Dallon. Panacea." I replied into the phone.

Dinah gasped and fell quiet for a few seconds, before the microphone picked up muttered numbers I couldn't quite make out. "D-... you okay?"

"Y-yeah. Don't worry about me. Er... names. You can tell her, it's fine." She managed.

"Okay, Dinah." If she was okay with it... "Are you okay, though? Do you have a problem with both of us coming by this weekend?"

"82% chance my odds are generally better if I'm known to interact with Panacea." She replied more confidently. "I-it's... okay, if it's her."

I winced a little. "Do... you want me to call your mom and ask about it?"

She paused, then snapped out a quick "No!" Before she sputtered another apology. "I... it's better if I do it."

"Okay." I said, drawing the word out unsurely. "Do you need anything, or should I let you go?"

"I'm fine!" She chirped. "Do... do you?" She was probably wondering if I had any questions for her, but I couldn't think of any that couldn't wait for Saturday.

"No, I'm fine. Thanks though. See you Saturday?" She mirrored the sentiment, and we hung up. I turned to Amy. "Soo..." I drawled, giving her an awkward smile.

Her eyebrow quirked up, unamused.

I slumped. "That was Dinah, she's... kind of the whole reason I'm forming a team." I leaned in a bit closer, so I could talk more quietly. "She's a thinker. Thinks she'll be kidnapped if she doesn't have help." I leaned in closer, so I could whisper in her ear. "Precog."

She stared blankly at me as I drew back. She was shocked, surprised... a little excited? "You have a pocket precog." She deadpanned.

"Maybe?" I winced, not really understanding the reference I felt she was making.

"I'm... not sure how to feel about that." She said, agitation rising within her. "On the one hand, that's... kind of amazing, and a little terrifying. On the other..." She started to feel... disturbed? "Are... is anything we did...?"

My eyes widened and I waved my hands negatively. "No! Nono, we're friends, you're my best friend, please..." I was tearing up, scared of losing her. She slumped and nodded, and I let myself heave a relieved breath. "Dinah only said there was a good chance we'd get another teammate this week... I had no idea it'd be you. I..." I bit my lip. "...honestly thought you'd never leave New Wave, so..."

She scoffed and shook her head, and I took the time to dry my eyes with a smile. Bit of an emotional rollercoaster this morning... We sat there comfortably for a couple minutes, before I felt the need to ask. "So, what are you going to do about leaving New Wave?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "I don't know. I'm graduating soon, even if I'm not 18 yet there's not a judge in the state that wouldn't approve my emancipation if I pressed it, being Panacea." She grimaced. "...except maybe a cape bigot."

I hummed. "So you're just going to... hide it until graduation?" That sounded like it could blow up in our faces.

Amy shrugged. "Not much else I can do. I could just quit outright, but..." Her family would throw a fit, and she'd still be living with them. I didn't blame her for not liking that option.

"We'll figure something out." I said, gathering her up into another half-hug. She flushed, her heart picking up agitatedly, and I let her go. I kept forgetting she didn't like being touched, even if her powers would let her, now. I checked the time, we were a few minutes from the bells. "I'll see you at lunch?"

She nodded, and we parted ways.

Lunch was fairly normal. Vicky was happy to see me again, and Kara seemed relieved I wasn't avoiding her anymore. I brought up that my grandmother was in town checking on me after the Winslow thing, and invited Amy over to hang out and maybe meet her. That got a few questions from Vicky's curious friends, which I mostly deflected. Aside from that, I just wallflowered with Amy while I ate. Tracy was still doing her thing, which made me think I should drop by again soon, and Cassie was still coming to school again, though I didn't bother seeking her out to check on her once I'd recognized her with my senses.

Eating with Vicky reminded me that I wanted to tell her I was a cape... but after the bombshell Amy dropped on me this morning? I felt a little conflicted about telling her one secret, while hiding the other, like I was just distracting her while I stole her sister away. That thought left me feeling fairly crummy for the rest of school.

I waited for Amy in front of the school, and we made our way to the buses from there. Vicky was apparently busy, and given my feelings at lunch, I didn't bother to ask what she was busy with. Amy made a crass remark about her sister only letting her go because she trusted me to keep Amy away from the hospitals. Which was... nice, I supposed.

We got to my house, and spent the time practicing martial arts in the backyard until Dad got home. When he saw Amy was here too, he offered to order some pizzas. I reminded him that Gram was coming by soonish, and though he never said it, I gathered from his reactions that a large part of why he decided on pizza was to thumb his nose at her high society sensibilities a bit. I wasn't going to say no to pizza, though, and let it slide.

Gram showed up when we were finishing up our first go at the pizzas, and I hopped up to let her in. I had to admit, it was a little fun watching her struggle to keep the sneer at our dinner off her face for the sake of a good first impression. "Gram, this is Amy Dallon. Amy, this is my grandmother, Rosalind Lafayette."

"Rose is fine, dear." Gram said, proffering her hand.

I could see Amy hesitate, she still wasn't used to skin contact, but she did shake Gram's hand. She felt pretty awkward after that, though. "Amy's decided to join my team, when she graduates." I said, to break the ice.

Amy looked sharply to me, surprised, with a brief flash of betrayal. "Your grandmother knows you're a cape?" She asked, incredulously.

"It is difficult to render assistance with matters of which one is ignorant." Gram replied rather sternly. "That said, I have a vested interest in my granddaughter's health, safety, and continued well-being. Supporting you then, becomes supporting her. I look forward to working with you." The old woman tilted her head in a brief nod, or an absolutely minuscule bow.

For a moment I panicked, thinking the pair were going to butt heads and hate each other, before Amy nodded.

"Fair enough. I'm guessing you're where the team's funding is going to be coming from?" Amy didn't like Gram, I could tell, but she was straightforward and rational enough that Amy could respect her. ...at least as much as an irreverent and usually belligerent teenager could, anyway.

Gram grinned rather viciously. "Oh, don't mistake me for a petty sack of ducats, miss Dallon. Tell me, have you ever considered work in pharmaceuticals?"

The shift in topic threw Amy for a moment. "That's making drugs, right?" Gram nodded, and Amy shook her head. "I can't do that. I just fix what's wrong with people." I goggled at her. The part about not making drugs was true, but... why would the second part be a lie?

By the time I thought to say something, Gram was talking again. I'd have to bring it up with Amy some other time, in private.

"You are the healer that can see a person's biology, yes?" Amy nodded. "This includes their cells? Chemicals in their blood? Complex organs like the brain?" Amy kept nodding, hesitating before that last one, glancing at me. I nodded to her, and she nodded at Gram. "Then it stands to reason you can also see how those chemicals interact with those cells and organs?"

"Yeah? What are you getting at?" Amy huffed.

Gram clicked her tongue. "Pharmaceutical companies, like your local Medhall, spend hundreds of thousands of dollars a month per drug they are researching, for years- even more than a decade- to try and prove they are relatively safe, do exactly what they think they do, and minimize chances that the drugs do something they are not aware of." Gram leaned forward, pinning a slightly wide-eyed but still confused Amy with a pointed stare. "You, miss Dallon, can simply walk into a series of drug studies, perhaps once a week for a month, and save whichever company is holding them literally millions of dollars by simply telling them what the chemicals are doing."

Amy had reared back a bit in the face of Gram's intensity, and I could feel her mind roaring with a dozen trains of thought. Her eyes twitched a little as she thought, staring more through Gram into the distance than at her, for the moment.

Gram chuckled, reaching into one of her pockets and pulling out a small metal case. Depressing two little triggers simultaneously caused the thing to click open on a spring, and Gram took one of the small stack of business cards from it, before closing it again. She held it out, the motion close enough to Amy's line of sight to startle her back to awareness. "Call me once you've reached your majority, and I can ensure you make at least seven figures a year helping to improve the health and quality of life for people around the globe."

Amy took the card, holding it like a venomous snake. She felt conflicted, full of giddy excitement, worry, fear, and shame. Eventually she slipped the thing into a pocket. "Thank you." She muttered, still confused and processing how she felt about the offer.

I could tell Gram was rather offended by the reaction, but didn't show it too obviously. Amy certainly didn't notice, still lost in her own little world. "Hey," I said, to draw attention away, Dad and Gram focusing on me while Amy looked my way, but mostly kept having her personal crisis. "So, tell me about those businesses you mentioned around town?"

Gram's eyes flicked briefly to Amy, but she nodded and started into an explanation of what all she'd been doing. It sounded like a lot more negotiating for potential investments than actually having bought in yet, though there were a few around that she already had stakes in. About twenty minutes in, Amy's phone started to ring, and she excused herself to the living room with a huff about it being 'from Carol.'

I honestly paid more attention to Amy talking than Gram, at that point. "Yes? ...I'm at a friend's house. ...Yeah? ... Why does that matter? ... Why? ... ...fine." She huffed and hung up, making her way back into the kitchen. Gram finished what she was saying, and subtly yielded the floor to her. "I have to go home." Amy spat in frustration, then took a breath and calmed down a little. "Sorry, I'll talk to you later."

"Do you need a ride?" Dad asked, moving to get up, when Gram stopped him.

"If miss Dallon requires a ride home, I have a perfectly fine driver on call." She took out her phone and called the woman, whose name was amusingly also Carol, and told her that 'her granddaughter's friend' needed a ride home. She ended the call with a nod. "You'll find her in the driveway. Have a safe trip home."

Amy looked fairly confused, and looked to me. I shrugged, and she shook her head, slightly exasperated. I hopped up to see her out, and watched the car pull away with her in it before heading back to the kitchen. Gram went back to her previous topic for another twenty minutes or so, before I found a good place to cut in without interrupting her.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I'd... sort of like to do something more immediately productive with my time, since Amy's not here anymore."

Dad cut in before Gram could. "What did you have in mind?" I think he was seeing a way to get rid of Gram's reason for being here, namely myself, and thus neatly shoo the old woman away. I didn't understand why he felt he had to stay down here with us in the first place, if he wanted to get back to his home desk for more of his own work.

"I was thinking training, but if I'm not going back to the Trainyard, I'm not entirely sure what my options are, today."

Dad rubbed his chin, while Gram sat back slightly, letting us discuss it. "Well," Dad started, slightly unsure. "If you just want something to do with your powers, you could always clean up part of the beach. It's been a while since that's been done."

I hummed, thinking back to when I'd been there recently, and having to dodge needles and glass sometimes, in addition to the regular trash. "Yeah, that probably needs doing." I turned to Gram, who'd been watching us imperiously. "Do you mind if I go do that?"

She pursed her lips, frustrated with my antics. She didn't seem angry, though. "No, this is fine." She took a breath and simmered down a bit. "Do consider attending some of these meetings, I know most of them will happen while you are at school, but this will not be all of them."

I smiled and gave a shy chuckle. If I kept ducking out on her like this, I probably should do something to make it up to her, huh? "Sure thing, Gram."

I made my way up to my room, grabbed my cape kit and swapped it into my bag in place of my books, and came back downstairs to say goodbyes for today.

It didn't take long to make my way to the beach, a couple quick walks and a bus ride, after telling Gram I didn't need a ride. I didn't want her driver to connect any dots about driving me down, and then Terraform doing something on the beach, especially since I got the feeling Gram was going to try find a place on the Boardwalk to catch sight of my powers in action.

I stashed my stuff on another abandoned-looking building, after checking the roof door and finding the lock still worked. I headed down to the thin strip of sand between the buildings and the water, mostly dry from this morning's light rain by now. My senses weren't phenominal in sand, but it was still fairly packed, so they weren't abysmal. I used them to pull harder, heavier trash out of the depths, sweeping up the surface to gather up the loose crap that hadn't blown or washed away already, and made a pile by the street nearby. I was a little surprised by how much of the sand, mostly dry or not, got kicked into the air by what I was doing. This might be a little flashier than I'd intended. With that in mind, I grabbed my cape phone and dialed the PRT.

"PRT Non-Emergency, how may I help you?" The woman who answered asked.

"Hi, this is Terraform. I was going to clean up the beach a bit, but... I think it's going to kick up more sand than I thought. I wanted to let you know, in case you started getting calls about it."

"Oh! Uh, give me a second." I heard typing and the occasional click in the background, the woman getting back to me a couple minutes later. "Okay, that should do it. Was there anything else?"

"No, thank you. I just didn't want to waste anyone's time being sent out to check on me." Goodbyes said, I stopped to think of my options.

I was closer to the north end and the Boat Graveyard than I was to the south, so I might as well head up that way and then loop back. So I headed that way in a zig-zag pattern, to make sure I caught everything with my senses as I went. Moving and unpacking the sand shortened my sensing range quite a bit, especially in the places where the beach widened out. Still, it wasn't long before I was speeding up, not caring how much dust I kicked up since I could just pull it along with me, and force it to the ground when I was done. When I felt confident I could keep up with it, I kicked up an unnatural dune, surfing along its crest while I gathered trash and pulled it along behind me.

It wasn't long before I started running into the beached wrecks that made up the Boat Graveyard, and figured that was a good enough place to stop. I didn't know how far Brockton extended past the Graveyard to the north, and didn't feel like cleaning up other cities' coast today. I piled the trash up by one of the wrecks, and pulled the sand out of the air, before pondering what to do with the garbage. It wasn't a small pile after all, and I didn't feel like dragging it across the beach to where I'd started again, nor leaving it out for Mush to use, since this was Merchant territory again...

In the end, I called the PRT again, and asked them if they could call the relevant services. The guy on the line was confused by the request at first, but seemed happy to do so once I told him how big it was, and where they could find it.

That done, I had a mile or two of beach to cover to get back to where I'd started. So I compacted the sand under my feet into a sandstone, locked my feet down onto it with more compacted sand, and did the 'moving dune' trick again. The distance was eaten up quickly, to the point where I started decelerating before I'd even hit anything I might consider my top speed. With a much longer stretch of beach ahead of me, it took a lot longer this time before I stopped. Not least of which because the trashberg I was pulling along behind me was starting to get unmanageable by the time I passed the slums. I decided to leave it where it was, after I started to get into the nicer Portsmouth area just south and east of the slum, figuring they'd be less likely to just leave it there like they might if I'd left it in the worse part of town's section of the beach. Then I sped ahead a bit, rounding the horn to the south of the bay, and pulling the comparatively negligible amount of trash from the nicer area to the pile I'd already dumped.

All told, it'd taken me less than three hours to do. I hadn't even noticed how dark it'd gotten, as focused as I was on my earth senses. Another call to the PRT, and I found myself standing around, wondering what to do now. I needed to get back to my bag up northward, so I could use air to sprint, do more earthbending to cut the distance, or... I eyed the bay itself. Why couldn't I just use the same trick on the water?

I sidled up to the waves, pulling a chunk of the water out and freezing it into a meter long several-inch-thick slab of ice on the sand. I got up on it unsteadily, then pulled the waves further in to float it. I nearly toppled over when the thing started to move, it was a lot less stable than my sandstone slab, and I had to freeze my feet to the ice to help my balance. It was unnerving to go without my earth senses at first, but I could see relatively well by the light of the shoreline and the Protectorate rig. A couple minutes of getting my bearings floating out past where the waves started curling and crashing, and I felt fairly confident in my balance.

So I pulled up a swell of water under myself, and pushed it to crash northward. it was a little tricky at first keeping myself at the right part of the wave for optimal travel, but it started getting fun after that. I sped about on the waves for a while, deciding to cut playtime short when I started getting too close to the Rig. I skirted around it and made my way to shore about where I thought I'd started on the beach, pulling the water and sand out of my hoodie, pants, and fake shoes. I could get the rest when I got home.

I was in a pretty good mood when I got home and sat down to study with some leftover pizza.

I snapped to awareness, startled by the suddenness of it. I took a moment to stare up at what I realized after a moment was a cloudless blue sky. I could feel around myself a little, like earth, but much worse. I shifted, and realized I was laying in sand. I wasn't sure what was going on, since I could normally sense much better through sand than this. All I could tell was that the couple feet under and all around me were also sand.

I sat up, and looked around. I was on a beach, with trees and shrubs to one side, and open water on the other. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep, so either I was dreaming, or I'd been kidnapped. Oddly, the thought of having been kidnapped didn't fill me with the anxious dread I was expecting. I was mildly alarmed, but my emotions felt dull. Muted. From my scant memories of lucid dreaming in the past, that wasn't too uncommon. Glancing around I spotted more incongruities in the world. The water had no waves despite being large enough I couldn't see another shore, which led me to notice there was no wind. I hadn't heard a single animal since waking up, and there was no movement in the plants. The sand was a perfect angled sheet without dunes or footsteps, the indentation where I'd been laying the only perturbation. There was no sun or moon in the sky, despite being bright daytime, and closer inspection of the foliage gave way to a repeating pattern to the trees and bushes.

Well, if this was a dream, I might as well enjoy it. I got to my feet and hopped into the air, surprised when I landed normally instead of floating into the air. "What the hell?" I muttered, bringing my hands to my lips and ear as I noticed the odd tinny quality of my voice. I made some random vocalizations to familiarize myself with the difference to it, chaining through a long continuous noise flowing between vowel sounds. "Okay. That's weird, but okay."

I could still sense, if poorly, so I checked my other powers. I spewed out some fire, then turned a stream onto the sand beside me, fusing it into glass. A gust of wind scattered more of the stuff, and a gesture froze a large swath of the water. Bending still worked, so what the hell was going on? I took a moment to rub at my eyes in frustration, and when I looked again everything I'd done was gone. No ice, no glass, no windswept divot in the sand. "Okay, that's actually really creepy." I said, looking around, slowly spinning to try and keep abreast of my surroundings. "Would be reeeaally nice to get some hint about what's going on."

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted something, speeding my spin to bring it into view. Four pillars stood in the previously empty sand. "Okay. Not getting it, if that's a hint." They weren't made of the same material, the left two looked like different kinds of stone, while the right were metals. As I got a little closer I could see the far right one looked to be steel, and the one next to it looked like poorly cast iron, full of pocks and bubbles. Spots of the other two were shiny like they also had metals in them, the second moreso than the first in the row. The far left looked almost like random rock, which would make the next one... unprocessed ore or something? I palmed my face, rubbing it a bit before I slumped a little, glaring up at the sky. "I don't understand!"

When I lowered my gaze, I jumped backward in alarm. Three of the pillars had vanished, leaving only the rocklike leftmost one. "Okay." I forced myself to calm down. "If I'm dreaming, this is probably more dream training..." So what did it want?

It wanted me to do something with the pillar, but it couldn't be as obvious as earthbending it... I slowly stepped up and laid my hand on the stone. Yep. Just rock. Not as cold as I was expecting, but with everything muted as it was, my sense of temperature being off didn't seem so strange. I closed my eyes and felt the stone. It was a square pillar a couple feet wide, three meters tall and just as deep in the ground. All I felt around it was more sand, and the structure of the rock itself was fairly normal, an igneous composite with crystalline structures in it that were a little harder to sense, probably metal veins.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn't surprised to see the other pillars had reappeared. Standing in their row, about two meters apart. "I guess I go down the line, then." I grumbled, trudging over to the second one. Like I'd thought, it was made almost entirely of the crystalline metallic structures.

The wrought iron pillar was the surprising one, after a few seconds of inspecting it with my senses, I thought I could feel bits of crystal in it. I tapped it with my other hand to propagate more vibrations through it, and sure enough tiny flecks of earth appeared in my senses throughout it. I grunted in surprise, and made my way to the last one. Even tapping, slapping, and hitting the thing- thanks to dream logic, even punching it wasn't painful- I couldn't sense anything in it.

"Okay, now what." I said, and waited. I deliberately closed my eyes for a second and reopened them, but nothing had changed. I stomped away until the pillars were outside my limited sensing range, and repeated myself. "I said, now what?" Eyes closed, eyes open. No change.

"I don't understand. You're my powers, right?" No answer. "I don't get it. I'm sorry, but I don't. You're going to have to explain it to me." I waited, my hackles raising as I kept closing my eyes and watching nothing happen. "I don't get it!" I yelled, pulling the stony pillars from the ground and smashing them against the metallic ones. A blink later they were back to their undamaged states, smugly waiting for me to get whatever I was supposed to understand. I growled and fisted my hands in my hair.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?" I roared at the sky.

And the sky roared back.

THU FEB 24

I snapped awake, nearly leaping from my bed as I heaved in great gulps of air. I could still hear the roar, and my rapidly waking brain finally recognized them as air sirens.

Endbringer sirens.


	16. avatarworm3

Feb 14, 2020

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#174

SAT FEB 19

Vista flopped herself down onto the couch after stretching space so she could do so from the door. She let out a frustrated groan and pawed her visor away from her face. Kid Win had already run off to tinker, which was fine with her. She didn't want to deal with other people right now. She'd been in a bad mood since she'd seen that message on PHO, with nothing to do but wait out the patrol and stew on it.

How dare that fucking cunt call her a prepubescent whore!? Called her small. Called her weak. So many insults in one little sentence.

And PR would crucify her if she responded in kind! She was allowed to be playful, make jokes, but never outright insult anyone. That'd just get her punished, and they knew the best punishments for her were just... sending her home.

She shuddered. The less time she had to spend around either of her parents, the better.

Sophia'd won this round, and the bitch knew it.

Missy threw her visor against the wall. It let out a satisfying crac-crunch as it rebounded off, then clattered to the floor. She didn't need to look to guess the tinker-polymer visor itself was probably fine. She might've cracked the plastic circlet rig it slotted into, but those were designed to be replaceable while she was still growing, anyway.

She sighed and rubbed her face, groaning into her hands. She had no intention of going home this weekend, especially with her mood this bad. She'd wind up snapping, which would lead to another argument, which the other parent would inevitably find out about and goad them about... she didn't even care to remember if it was her mother or father she was supposed to be staying with, right now.

She glanced over at their entertainment center, her half-lidded stare completely unimpressed. She didn't care about TV, didn't like video games the same way the boys did, wasn't interested in any of the movies they kept stocked here, and the training videos could go fuck themselves.

With a sigh, she dug out her phone. Might as well check PHO again, before figuring out what to do. She could always go out on an unsanctioned patrol, the gang borders were a mess right now, little fights everywhere, while the kiddies like her got stuck patrolling the safer areas. She should be out there in the fights, making the streets safe. Not cowering like a whiny little girl.

She took a deep breath and let it go. She was still pissed at Sophia. That's all this was. She didn't have to prove to herself that she wasn't a little girl, everyone who mattered already knew she wasn't. Missy steadfastly ignored how short that list actually was, as she navigated to the site and groaned.

The first notification when she refreshed PHO was from her keyword searches, telling her she'd been mentioned in Terraform's thread again. Knowing that, she deliberately skipped over it when she got to it. She skimmed the couple new pages on the Vista thread, checked the Gallant and Glory Girl threads for mentions of Dean and what he might be up to- it wasn't stalking if she didn't keyword search him, she repeated to herself- and ran down the list of ENE cape threads to distract herself from today, and the thread she was ignoring.

Eventually though, she ran out of things to dally on. With a put-upon sigh, she navigated her way back to Terraform's thread.

► SpecificProtagonist (Cape Groupie) (Threadbanned)

Replied on February 19, 2011:

Crashb0t Hey, everyone has their ways to handle stress. Some people smoke, or drink, or play video games, whatever.

I write TerraXVista lewds I'm never going to be allowed to post anywhere. That's how I'm dealing with the difficult time I've had for the past couple weeks.

What I'm trying to say is, gimme the deets!

What even the fuck? She was thirteen. There was no room for ambiguity in that, she knew her official page was even erred slightly younger than her real age on purpose. Way too young for that. She imagined the pervert in her head; a fat neckbearded nerd living in his mom's basement, spending all his time looking up porn and typing up sick kink shit like putting little girls in his 'adult fiction'.

Missy threw her phone to the far end of the couch, where it bounced off the arm and came to rest between the back and her foot. She shrank space to pick up the remote without having to move, clicking the TV on. Then she warped space so she could kick open the fridge, before letting that snap back into place, reaching her arm out to grab a can of soda, then pinching the fingers of her other hand, shrinking the empty space of the open door to nothing and letting the magnetic strips snap it closed. She cracked the can one-handed, a trick her dad taught her because he thought it'd make him look cooler to her. Instead it just reminded Missy what a stupid frat idiot he'd been when he knocked up her mother. Her other hand was busy flipping the TV to the Nature channel, pretty much the only station they got that was worth anything, and only because they had kitties sometimes.

She slurped at her can and stewed for a bit, zoning out to the documentary she'd already seen, about the biotinkered snakes some idiot released in Australia to try and fix their toad problem. The only thing the first watch had done was lead to her deciding to never, ever visit that crazy place. Long story short- it did not work. Way fewer dingos around to eat babies now, at least.

It only took half an hour before she was bored enough to try anything else to alleviate it. Whenever her mind wandered though, it always strayed back to that post. Slapping her hand down on the phone by her foot without bending herself in any way, she picked it up and growled as she flipped through PHO again. If her mind wouldn't let her escape the topic, she'd dig deeper and find a reason to stop caring about it.

She brought up SpecificProtagonist's profile, and scoffed. 15? Female? There was no way that wasn't a lie. In Missy's experience, girls didn't care about sexing littler girls, it was all the old perverts who were after kids. She even had a link to another site where her 'content' was supposed to be. She'd seen that scam plenty of times, no thanks.

She went back to zoning out in front of the TV for a while. Dennis came in at that point, suiting up for the patrol he had with Dean today, and decided to check on her.

"Hey, Missy. How are you holding up?" He asked, setting down his helmet and plopping into a seat.

She shrugged. "I'm fine. Dean not coming in?"

Dennis hesitated, but shook his head. "Picking up the suit from Armsy. He's meeting me out front." She groaned quietly and went back to the TV. She'd forgotten it was due for maintenance. "Hey, you sure you're okay? I saw what was going on in-"

Oh god no. "I'm fine." The last thing Missy wanted was to be babied.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay!" He got up and grabbed his helmet with an unsure smile and a chuckle. "I'm going."

She didn't bother watching as he left. She appreciated that the boys were taking things more seriously now, but hated that it took Triumph getting kicked up to the Protectorate over the holidays to do it. She liked Rory, but he'd been 18 for something like half a year before they finally booted him off the team. She was sure there was some nepotism there, him being the Mayor's son, putting pressure to keep him in the Wards, and thus a command role, for as long as possible.

His long term as leader had left the other boys complacent, though. Aegis was floundering a bit, trying to figure out how to be their boss instead of their friend. Dennis and Dean were finally starting to realize their turns were coming up soon, since Carlos didn't want to stay in charge. Hell, he didn't even want to stay in the Bay! Traitor already had a transfer lined up for when he graduated.

Missy's problem with all of this was that these changes just saw them trying to baby her more, to show how adult and responsible they were. No one cared that she was the most experienced and best trained of the Wards. They just saw a child that needed watching.

She groaned, not wanting to drive herself into another rage arguing with herself over why she should be Wards Leader, already.

Now she wasn't just bored, she was pissed. When her thoughts turned back to that stupid lying pervert, she growled and clicked through their profile. They had some fake blurb, and a few comments and conversations there. And that link. She glared at it for a few moments, before deciding it was probably real. It looked like a real URL, sounded vaguely familiar, so some of her classmates were probably users there, and holding her finger down on the link until options popped up let her confirm the link actually went to the place it said it did. Dennis loved messing with people by posting up a URL and changing the actual hyperlink destination to something completely different, usually memes or old songs. Sometimes both.

The desire to leave scathing reviews on the pervert's smut quickly grew overpowering. She switched her phone to data-only, to dodge the stupid kiddie filters on the WiFi, and clicked the link. Getting a phone without filters like that was as simple as complaining to her father about the phone her mother had gotten her being in any way inadequate. It wasn't like they were going to scream at each other any more over it, but she hadn't heard it brought up yet. Missy's phone loaded the site just fine, and she made an account, obviously lying about her age when that option popped up. The first thing she did when it let her through to the 'SpecificProtagonist' profile on this other site was spin off another page in her browser to run a search for 'Vista'. To the site's credit, she didn't find much, and it seemed she was only mentioned in those, not starring. A quick skim through the board's terms and rules confirmed a not unreasonable 'No persons under 16' rule for the porn. Something about age of consent where the forum was based from.

She closed that tab and went back to examining the profile and stories list. The first thing she noticed was an overwhelming propensity for gay boy pairings. All of the ENE boys were on here- even though Chris really shouldn't, since he was 15- some of them multiple times. SP seemed to really like pairing Dean with Rory or Dennis. There were more, including the adult heroes, and even some girl pairings. She scoffed at one with a summary about Battery seducing Shadow Stalker into the Wards. Missy knew Battery was only a couple years out of the Wards herself, but knowing them? The whole idea was ridiculous.

She scrolled back up, looking for one that was especially heinous, and couldn't possibly be any good. Her eyes alighted on a Glory Girl / Panacea story, which fit the bill. She was self-aware enough to admit a good chunk of why she picked it was the little thrill that the pairing meant Dean would be single, there. She settled in, fully expecting to see some nasty lesbian incest scene before she could even scroll down.

Three hours later, Missy closed the story, feeling conflicted. She had only found one sex scene near the end, which was tagged so it could easily be skipped over. The entire thing was... actually really sweet. It took her a second to get over the fact that the characters acted nothing like Vicky and Amy, but once Missy'd convinced herself these were just girls who happened to have the same names and family situation? Surprisingly compelling. Amy slowly seducing Vicky, then the pair having a whirlwind Romeo-and-Juliet affair, before running off together.

Why was this even on this site? Sure, it had that one scene, but that could be cut out. It couldn't be the incest angle, everyone who bothered to look it up knew Amy was adopted. It was even right there in the story!

She'd barely even acknowledged Dennis and Dean getting back from their patrol, heading to her room to avoid the inevitable video game noises more than anything else. So now she was laying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to categorize all the feelings she was having. One thing she was sure of, SpecificProtagonist probably wasn't a guy. She didn't think a boy could capture a girl's internal thoughts that well. If that was true, maybe she was 15? It still didn't make it okay that they were writing little girls into their adult fiction, but... on the other hand, didn't that just mean they thought she was adult enough for it?

Missy blushed a little. It was nice thinking she'd found someone else that thought she could be in adult situations... with adult responsibilities, able to decide things for herself instead of being told she was too small, all her talent and experience left squandered.

She grabbed her phone and switched accounts. She didn't use this one much, but the option was always nice.

MissedByAMile (10:48PM): Hey, are you *really* writing that Vista stuff?

She stared at the screen for a bit, still not sure she should be messaging a stranger on the internet, but... the validation if she was right? She huffed, blacking her screen and slapping it down on the bed, covering her eyes with her other hand. She didn't need anyone's approval. She was just fine how she was.

...it'd be nice, though.

Her phone beeped at her, and she checked it.

SpecificProtagonist (10:50PM): Are you *really* asking about that?

SpecificProtagonist (10:50PM): Wait, I know.

SpecificProtagonist (10:50PM): You're a *cop* aren't you?

SpecificProtagonist (10:51PM): I know my rights! Text *I* put on *MY* hard drive is *MY* business! You can't harass me over that!

Missy scowled, torn between wondering what the hell this crazy was talking about, and wondering if that was actually anything like a valid concern, for a porn writer. It only took her a little bit to think of a halfway decent reason to be asking about this stuff, before she replied.

MissedByAMile (10:52PM): What? No. I'm a Vista fan.

MissedByAMile (10:52PM): She's my age, and I like imagining I'm her.

SpecificProtagonist (10:50PM): Wait, really?

MissedByAMile (10:52PM): *Yes*, really.

She heaved out a sigh, wondering if any of this stupid validation was even worth it... It took a bit for SP to get back to her, and Missy imagined she was doing a bit of digging, like she'd done earlier on the older girl's profiles and such.

SpecificProtagonist (10:53PM): Okay, let's say I believe you. What do you want?

MissedByAMile (10:53PM): I dunno, I thought it might be cool to read some of those.

MissedByAMile (10:53PM): Or swap ideas, if you didn't want to share.

SpecificProtagonist (10:54PM): ...

SpecificProtagonist (10:54PM): You *do* know I only write gay shit, right?

Missy groaned at their obstinance, and figured a bit of embellishment couldn't hurt.

MissedByAMile (10:54PM): Yeah, I know. I've read a few of your stories already.

SpecificProtagonist (10:55PM): Hmm... Alright.

SpecificProtagonist (10:55PM): What kind of story were you thinking of writing?

MissedByAMile (10:55PM): Maybe something Vista/Gallant?

SpecificProtagonist (10:55PM): ...go on.

Missy grinned, and started trying to throw together bits of fantasies she'd had in the months since her crush started to bloom, seeing what fit together into a halfway cohesive plot.

This was going to be fun.

WED FEB 23

Sarah was clicking away at her computer, managing the team's patrol and PR schedules for the next few weeks, when the phone rang. She made sure to save her work, before checking it. The number wasn't one she recognized, but it was a call to her New Wave business line. That wasn't so odd, she just hoped it wasn't another rabid fan or anti-cape bigot who'd managed to find their actual number instead of the glorified voicemail box they put on all their cards. "Hello? Sarah Pelham, Lady Photon."

"Hello." The voice on the other line was sharp and female, as well as old if her guess was right. "My name is Rosalind Lafayette. I am interested in making a sizable donation towards your team's foundation," The non-profit they used for costumes, insurance, and any costs from PR events. "and when I expressed an interest in speaking with you before finalizing the transfer, I was provided this number."

Ahh, one of those calls. Sometimes people wanted things from the team, be it personal meetings or autographs, or the less acceptable mercenary requests. Some of the hinted requests of the girls on the team still made her shudder to think about. Some of the idiots with too much money out there are just unacceptable with how they wanted to use it. Although to be fair, some of these calls are genuinely someone that just wanted to chat first, and she hoped that's what this was. She scribbled the woman's name down on the pad by the phone, before she could forget. People tended to make all their smaller donations at the PR events, not bothering to go through the trouble with the non-profit and the banks unless they were at least fifty dollars, usually a hundred or more. Sometimes they'd get the odd thousand dollar donation, some of their largest being five to ten. They'd gotten a twenty-thousand donation once, after taking down Marquis, which had been a major windfall given their private struggles at the time. "Thank you for your consideration, that's very kind of you. What were you wanting to discuss?" She didn't use words like 'what can I do for you?' in these instances, anymore. It never ended well.

"My granddaughter was hospitalized recently, and while she's now recovered, she is far too stubborn to take the reasonable option and leave the city for greener pastures... no offense."

"None taken." Sarah replied almost immediately. She knew firsthand how bad the Bay could get. She was relieved the call wasn't complaining about Amy not healing someone... that also happened far too often, in her opinion. The girl was a trooper, but not a machine. She needed downtime like anyone else.

"The next most reasonable course of action then becomes attempting to render the city safer for her. To that end, I've set aside some funds for the local police, emergency services, and independent heroes. I would consider endorsing the PRT and Protectorate, but there are some... unfortunate circumstances staying my hand."

Sarah knew a leading statement, and that was about as blunt as they came. "What sort of circumstances?" She asked, not seeing the harm in pandering, especially if not asking the question might cost them.

"When Taylor was hospitalized, the PRT almost immediately took control of the criminal investigations surrounding the incident and, to the best of my own investigations, have done nothing with them." There was a tightness to the other woman's voice, carefully controlled rage threatening to snap. "Even nearly two months later, I still find more signs of those initial few days of police action than any PRT efforts."

Shit, this conversation was a minefield. She couldn't side too heavily against the PRT, or risk some backlash as the leader of a PRT-Affiliated team. She could understand the woman's frustration though, and as much as she hated it, a not-insignificant part of her couldn't stand the thought of letting the donations slip away from them. "I'm sorry, that sounds terrible. Have you tried contacting them?" She asked, neutrally.

"Oh, they're on the list." The old woman chuckled. "Don't you worry about that. Now, what has your group been up to these past few weeks? I've heard you try to strike a balance between heroics and normal life."

A much safer question, but still felt a little like prying. Still... "We've been taking some time off and patrolling more. There's an Endbringer attack due soon, and we want to make sure we're ready to help out." Not to the fight itself. She wouldn't mind going, but if she went, Neil would follow, not to mention her children. Crystal was old enough Sarah couldn't stop her if she wanted to, now. She shook her head, not wanting to dwell on even considering losing any of them.

"Ah, yes." The words were hissed with a venom that surprised Sarah. "I don't begrudge anyone wanting those monsters dead. My husband and son were in New York." Sarah inwardly cursed, and couldn't help imagining an ominous click underfoot. "Entirely different buildings, but... I like to imagine they were together, in the end."

Sarah resolved to hug Eric whether he liked it or not, the next time she had the chance. "I'm sorry for your loss."

She had the feeling Rosalind was shrugging. "It's been fifteen years, and at least I still have my granddaughter."

Right. The granddaughter. The entire reason for the conversation. "And... her name is?"

"Taylor Hebert." That name sounded familiar, but the only thing that came to mind was the man who ran that dock union... They'd never interacted, but she thought it might be a 'D' name? "Don't worry if you can't put a face to her name, she's endeavored to not be newsworthy, and I can't help but think it's at least partly my fault." She must have waited too long to comment, and gave a polite chuckle.

"It's good that she's out of the hospital. How is she?" Be polite, keep her engaged.

"She's doing much better after her transfer to Arcadia. She's happier, and making friends. I'd prefer if if she were doing so in a safer city, but at this point she doesn't want to be moved again." Sarah wondered if she'd met any of their children at school, and decided she'd ask Eric if he'd heard anything about her. Probably after the hug.

"I understand the worry, ma'am. If it weren't for my circumstances, I might have considered moving." It did no one any good not to admit the Bay had its problems. Better to own it and spread some breadcrumbs to follow.

"Your team, yes." Sarah inwardly cheered at having steered the conversation away from the minefield. "Most of what I've found looking into your group, has been about the Dallon girls. Could you tell me a bit more about the rest of you?"

Right... "My own children have been focusing on their studies when not patrolling, Eric goes to Arcadia and tends to patrol around the school and home, since he's a rather slow flier." Public knowledge. "Crystal likewise watches out for the campus area, when she's not in classes there." Don't need to mention that she's living in an easily targeted dorm room instead of home... "Carol does a lot of very important work that does sadly pull her away from patrols fairly often, but makes time to patrol and liaise with the PRT. Neil and I have a nice balance to our cape and civilian lives, I think." When they can find civilian work, anyway... "And Mark is-" ...barely functional... "-on call, whenever we need him."

"Hmm..." Sarah could feel the weight of decades of intense scrutiny in that hum, and couldn't help the slight sweat that broke out. "...I believe I will be happy to support your team and its mission, Mrs. Pelham."

"That's wonderful!" She said excitedly, scribbling down a couple more notes before she forgot.

The old woman hummed pleasantly. "If you don't mind, I have several other calls to make, before I visit my granddaughter today. Have a pleasant afternoon."

"You as well, and thank you again!" Sarah said, waiting for the line to click dead before she hung up.

Well, that went well enough, and the team had another windfall to look forward to. That always brightened moods around. She clicked back to her work, fiddling with schedules and making a quick call about a venue to host something in a couple weeks, hopefully after the Endbringer tension was done for a few months. Then she clicked over to their online banking pages, curious about their newest donation, only to choke on her own spit.

That couldn't be right.

She called Margie, the non-profit specialist they usually worked with for New Wave's non-profit foundation, only to be told that yes, the numbers were real. Yes, she'd checked with Madam Lafayette's accountant, it was intentional. Sarah idly thanked her, and the headset slipped from her loose fingers. She very nearly fainted, staring at her screen.

Sarah blinked, forcing herself to take a breath, rapidly and somewhat violently writing the number down on the sheet she'd been scribbling notes on, underlining it twice, and tore it off the pad. "Neil!?" She called, diving to the floor to retrieve her fallen phone.

The big man thundered up the stairs, meeting her at the door as she floated into the hallway. His concerned gaze instantly assessed his wife, and seeing no immediate problems, grew confused. "You alright?"

She swallowed to try and wet her dry throat. "Yeah, I'm... calling Carol over." His head tilted slightly, and she pushed the paper into his chest. "We got a donation."

He grabbed the sheet, and she heard him mutter "...that's a lot of zeroes." as she floated down the stairs.

She dialed her sister's number, and floated to the kitchen table, seating herself rather heavily in her chair.

"Sarah? Is everything okay?" Carol asked, duly confused since Sarah rarely called during regular 'work' hours, even if they were all taking time off.

"I don't know. Probably. I just... need to talk. Can you come over?" She tried to keep her voice even, and wasn't sure she succeeded.

Manpower came down the stairs a minute later, rather woodenly seating himself at the table, and setting the sheet of notes down in front of him. It only took Carol about five minutes to pull into their driveway, they didn't live that far away after all. Surprisingly, when she let herself in, Mark followed in behind her. He must be having a good day.

"Sarah? What's wrong?" Carol asked, eyes darting about for anything out of place. Sarah motioned to the table, and her sister stopped short, warily. "What's going on?"

"Please sit down." When her sister didn't budge, she sighed. "We got a donation."

"That's... nice. But not strange. What's wrong?"

"I think you should be sitting." Sarah said, somberly.

Carol was about to protest again, when Mark came up behind her with a gentle push forward. She huffed, and stalked to the seat nearest her sister, and Mark took the next one. "What is all this about?"

"We got a donation." Sarah said again, and when Carol was about to chime in that she'd already said that, she continued. "One hundred. Thousand. Dollars."

Mark goggled at her, turning to Neil, who nodded.

Carol grit her teeth, staring at her sister, giving her a moment to spring it as some uncharacteristic joke. "That is... a suspiciously large amount of money." That was the sort of money one might drop on a multinational aid foundation, not a pair of nuclear families who fought crime in their spare time.

Sarah nodded. "That's why I called you over." She motioned to Neil, who handed the note off to Mark. "I have no idea what to do about it."

Carol took a glance at Sarah's chickenscratch, and couldn't help the ominous feeling she recognized those names. She took a deep breath and turned back to her sister. "Please, summarize."

She took a deep breath. "I got a call earlier, from a Rosalind Lafayette. She said she was donating to places around the city, to make it safer for her granddaughter Taylor. From the sound of it, she was planning on handing out money to everyone but the PRT and Protectorate. Something about dropping the ball on the case that had her hospitalized."

Mark winced, Neil groaned and palmed his face, and Carol took a deep breath and slipped further into 'lawyer mode'. "I wasn't aware the PRT were involved."

Sarah gave her sister a wary look. "But you were aware of the case?"

Carol nodded. "I looked into it, after Amy brought... Taylor... home with her."

Sarah blinked. "Wait, brought her home? So she's friends with this Taylor, or...?"

Her sister sneered slightly. "As far as I know, yes. Friends."

Sarah carefully ignored Carol's reaction. "So, it's possible Rosalind knew Taylor was friends with at least one of our children, and was... saying thank you for taking care of her?"

Carol scoffed. "I highly doubt it."

Sarah threw her hands up in frustration. "Well the only other option I can see is her trying to turn us against the PRT somehow!"

"Sarah." Neil boomed calmly. "Carol, both of you calm down." He watched his wife start taking deeper breaths, then met Carol's flinty gaze. It took a moment, but she glanced away first. "I don't think a little bad blood is going to do much. Piggot already hates us on principle, and the rest of her staff are professional enough to at least act like little things like this didn't happen."

"I liked her." Mark said, breaking into the mood and causing the others to glance at him curiously. "Taylor, I mean. Nice girl. Bit awkward. I think she grounds Amy a bit..." He visibly chewed on his words for a moment, before he nodded. "I think they're good for each other."

This left the others thinking somberly for a few moments, before Sarah sighed. "Carol, you obviously know more about the situation than the rest of us. What'd you find about Taylor's case?"

Her sister didn't bother denying that she did know quite a lot about it, despite not having direct legal access to all of the pertinent data. "I couldn't get access to her medical records, and didn't know the status of the investigation." She shook her head. "Nor who had the investigation. What I was able to gather was that Taylor Hebert was locked in her locker for several hours before breaking herself out, and whatever she'd been locked in with, it was bad enough that no one would touch her. The faculty present called EMTs to take her to the hospital, not because she was that badly injured, but because they wouldn't have to pick her up to take her to the nurse."

Mark sighed, closing his eyes. Neil tensed angrily, and Sarah covered her mouth with a hand, muttering "Oh my god..."

"She spent almost two weeks in the hospital, and remarked once that she'd been comatose for at least half that time."

"And no one got fired over that?" Sarah huffed angrily. "I know I would've heard about this if they were!"

Carol shook her head. "Several of the faculty were given citations, and mandated sensitivity training and emergency medical training. The school has such a high turnover for faculty that apparently they can't afford to fire anyone outright over this one incident."

"That's bullshit!" Sarah spat, and Carol glanced away and gave a very small nod of agreement.

"I think we can all understand why the woman is so angry, now." Neil said evenly. "I don't like that she dragged us into it, but... she did give us more than I make in a year."

Sarah could easily admit, that did make it pretty hard to stay mad at the woman. It still didn't feel quite real, yet. Their team was just... fine, financially. This one donation would cover their regular spending for the rest of the year, and it wasn't like the regular smaller donations were going to stop entirely. They were a public practice, anyone could look at their ledgers if they asked the right people the right questions, but how many actually did that? It might make the people that would second-guess donating to them, but the rest?

They shifted gears after that, touching on Endbringer plans, and upcoming PR events once that was past. No use wasting the fact that all the adults but Crystal were here, especially when she was such an infrequent participant in those plans, with her college work piling up.

It was about an hour later that Carol and Mark left, with a promise to keep an eye out for anything on the Hebert front.

WED FEB 23

I groaned as I saw the number. "It's from Carol…" I got up with a huff, nodding towards their living room, and wandered off to take the call. "Yes?"

"Where are you?" Carol snapped.

"I'm at a friend's house." I stated calmly.

She paused, and I caught the slight trepidation in her voice when she continued. "...is it Taylor?"

"Why does that matter?" I had to remember not to snap, Carol always had to escalate if she thought someone was confronting her.

She huffed out a small sigh, but didn't seem to be gearing up to yell, this time. "I'll let you know when you get here. You're coming home, now."

I had to resist the urge to pull the phone away to glare at it. "Why?"

She hissed in a sharper breath, and I knew I'd fucked up. Her next words were flat, pointed, and clearly enunciated. Lawyer mode. "Something has come up, Sarah called me over to discuss it, and now I need to speak with you about it. Come. Home."

No winning here. "...fine." The call ended, and I took a slow, deep breath. Whatever she wanted, I was not looking forward to this…

I went back in, and told them I had to leave. Then Taylor's grandmother offered up her driver, catching me off guard to the point I didn't speak up before she'd made the call. I glanced uneasily at Taylor, who shrugged. I sighed and shook my head, wondering how the hell she decided what to be completely unflappable about. I started for the door, and she hopped up to see me out. I couldn't tell if she was being courteous, or if this was another of her 'dumb puppy' moments that made it so hard to dislike her.

Case in point, the awkward wave she gave when I got into the car. She was never trying to be cute, but she managed it anyway. I gave a little wave back, hiding my wince at how painfully adorkable she was being.

After we'd pulled out, the driver caught my eye in the rearview. "So… you're Panacea, right?"

I bit down the groan. "Yeah?" I gave her my most deadpan nonplussed stare.

"Oh, just... uhh." She blushed a little, chuckling to ease her nerves. "Just wanted to make sure I was taking you to the right place."

She hadn't asked where my house was. That... was the most awkward type of fan. Just nice enough that public figure decorum demanded being nice back, but creepy enough you were never sure what they wanted, what they already knew, or what they were going to do with anything new they learned interacting with you. I'd hesitate to say 'the kind you have to be nice to, but can't quite feel safe around' because it was pretty hard to beat my power for feeling safe from the usual creepy fan threats, but I knew that's how it'd be for a normal celebrity.

I ignored her, digging out my phone and sending Vicky a text, asking if she was still busy. When I didn't get an immediate reply, I sighed. She was probably still riding Dean in whatever 'sufficiently romantic' dark corner of they Bay they'd wound up in. I leaned into the door, looking out the window and trying to ignore the dark, jealous, betrayed disgust trying to bubble its way out of my stomach. Vicky didn't belong to me, I'd just have to be fine with that.

My phone finally dinged about halfway home. Just a quick 'sup?' from Vicky. I felt the giddy joy at interacting with her rise up, and peter out. Now wasn't the time for that.

'Nd hlp, if ur free' I sent. She sent a couple of question marks back. 'Carol clld, hav t hd hom. prbs pissd. Run int?'

The wait was longer this time, and I imagined she was discussing it with Dean. 'Gmme 20?' she sent back, as we started pulling down my street.

'Ur the best.' I sent with a smile. I could handle Carol for twenty minutes.

We pulled up to the curb, and the driver called out to me. "So, uhh..." She pulled out a paper pad, and a pen. "Would you mind? My little cousin's been on a New Wave kick, recently..."

I sighed. Usually I wouldn't bother, only playing this nice with the fans when someone else was around, but then I thought of Carol waiting in the house, and eyed her car warily. With a choked down groan, I took the pad, killing a couple minutes asking who I should make it out to, what I should say for them, and making... small talk about what her cousin was like. I hated every second of it, but it was better than giving her another few minutes to ramp up before Vicky got back.

Eventually the conversation got awkward though, and I had to let her go. I watched her pull out, and heaved a small sigh. "Into the fire, I guess." I turned and made my way up the driveway, taking the steps as slowly as possible without looking like I was intentionally stalling.

Carol had set up in the living room, with a clear view of the door, like I knew she would. Her sharp gaze tore over me for a moment, her fingers never pausing as she typed something up on her laptop. "Sit." She commanded, and I ambled over.

Whatever it was, she finished typing and closed the screen just before I sat down. After a few seconds of silence, I figured this was one of those days she wanted me to be engaging. "So, what did you call me home to talk about?"

Carol clucked her tongue, still assessing me. "New Wave received a rather substantial donation today, from one Rosalind Lafayette."

I glanced down, trying to remember if she'd mentioned that. "Isn't that a good thing?" I asked, meeting her eyes again.

Her lips pursed unpleasantly. "It was to the sum of one hundred thousand dollars."

My eyes widened at the unexpectedly high number. I knew she'd talked about money in amounts that sounded pretty rediculous, but I didn't think she'd have that much to just throw around. "That's some pile o' dosh." I muttered. Her eyes narrowed, entirely unamused. "I still don't get it though, that's good, right?"

Carol's pursed lips softened, but her eyes narrowed slightly. "Nominally, yes. However, I've checked with contacts in other organizations, and it seems the police and fire departments each received around thirty thousand, while hospitals and clinics have gotten twenty or less, depending on their size." She leaned forward, her gaze somewhat predatory. "Note that among them, I did not mention the PRT, nor Protectorate. It appears that we have received their shares, and I do not like the message that is sending to anyone who checks." She leaned back. "And believe me, they will."

I knew she was waiting for me to speak, expecting me to fess up, like she always did. I had no idea why she even tried anymore. It hadn't worked since before I was ten, and she'd always punish me for it when I did. "I have no idea why." I said honestly.

Her eyes flashed, and she bit her tongue. I could tell she wanted to tell me that was bullshit, and that I should just tell her whatever it was she wanted me to say that would justify her paranoia. "You have no idea?" Dripped out venomously, instead.

"None." I stated firmly. Meeting her eyes meant challenging her. Looking away meant admitting guilt. Like everything about Carol, a no-win situation. I chose to try and stare her down.

She bristled exactly as I knew she would. "I don't believe you."

You never do. "I do not know why she'd have a problem with the PRT. I could guess, but that'd probably be wrong." And she hated guessing, anyway. "You're going to have to ask something else, if you want more than that."

She tensed, her teeth gritting, but she swallowed that down before responding. "You are aware that she's Taylor's grandmother, yes?"

I hated the accusation towards Taylor she was leveling with her tone, but I couldn't address that without this devolving into a shouting match. "Yes. She dropped by a little while ago, to talk to Taylor. We were introduced, then you called, and I left. She had her driver give me a ride home." A factual statement of events, leaving out the important parts.

"And you don't know why she might have an issue with the PRT?"

I quirked an eyebrow. "Should I?" I had no idea what she was trying to prove, and was getting tired of giving the same damned answer. "She doesn't tell me everything. I'm sure you don't tell Aunt Sarah everything." I caught the minute flinch, and knew I'd scored a point. Hypocritical bitch. "If you know something about Taylor that I don't, I trust her to have a good reason she hasn't told me, yet." Put up, or shut up, Carol.

"Apparently," She started, choosing her words carefully. "The investigation into what hospitalized Taylor was taken under the PRT's jurisdiction, and I assume-" Oh just call it a guess, you hypocrite! "-that their findings were inconclusive enough to displease her."

I leaned back, thinking on it. "That makes sense." I met her eyes again. "I still didn't know about that until you told me, though."

She hummed, still apparently unconvinced. "I still don't like that she's trying to play us against the PRT, Amy."

I raised my arms in an overenthusiastic shrug. "I don't see how it's our problem. If you really don't like it, just... I dunno, give them their shares, or something! Or you could just keep it, and not care, since it's not like the public is going to find out and make a huge stink about it. The PRT's got federal money backing it, they shouldn't need big donations like we do."

"She has no right to involve us in her squabbles!" Carol snapped.

"I don't think she cares." I spat back. "What would you do if the PRT just up and dropped what happened to Eric, huh? Or what happened to Crystal?"

Her eyes alighted with a mad rage at my mention of their trigger events, and she nearly leapt to her feet. "You do not get to take that tone with me, young woman!" She shouted.

And like she'd been waiting for it, and for all I knew, she had, Vicky chose that moment to charge in through the front door, trailing a cacophony of cheerful ruckus in her wake. She looked slightly more ruffled than the windswept look alone could properly account for, but I doubt Carol noticed. "Hey mom! Ames, what's going on?" She chirped happily, trying to diffuse the situation.

I couldn't help one last jab. "Oh, Taylor's grandma gave New Wave a bunch of money."

"Really?" She asked, her eyes lighting up.

Carol glared down at me in betrayal, warming the cold cackles of my heart. Go ahead, spit all over your little angel's good mood. I fucking dare you.

She gave up, turning away with a huff and turning her attention to her real daughter. I smiled at her back. Just five more months, you bitch, and I'm free of you forever. The thought filled me with more joy than I thought entirely reasonable, but it wasn't like I'd turn down a good mood.

WED FEB 23

Reuben heaved a weary sigh, leaning his weight on his good leg, and the wall of the alley he'd trudged down into. It wasn't much, but it was private enough for a couple minute's rest. The Merchants were finally starting to settle down, today's patrol was downright uneventful compared to even yesterday. He'd heard Skidmark had been put down, nearly killed. Squealer didn't care about anything, and Mush was too passive to start fights without his violent boss goading him into it. It looked like the city was going to calm down just in time for the next big 'truce'.

He snorted to himself. Truce. What a crock of shit. The gangs never stopped, even if they played at keeping quiet for a few days, drugs kept flowing, girls kept disappearing, families and businesses still had to pay their 'dues'. Truce only kept the violence bottled up until someone popped the bubble again, then they'd make up for lost time. He shook his head, groaning as his weight settled back on his bad leg.

A metal paw reached down to rub at the pocked and scarred steel plating covering the limb. He knew it couldn't really press through the armor over the healing bullet wound, but the motions still helped a little. He knelt slightly, so he could put more weight on his hands to scrape along the plates. It'd been almost two months since he'd been shot. Not even the worst wound he'd ever had, but it still laid him out. They tossed him in a clinic, told him to focus on getting better. Not two days later he gets word he's fired.

'Honorable Discharge' his ass. The damn skinheads were looking for any excuse to have him pressed off the force, and they finally managed to make something stick. Getting too old, too slow to catch up to changing procedures, mentally unfit for grief or overwork... they even tried to use his daughter against him. Single parent shouldn't be running around getting shot at, they said.

And then this happened. Through shot, grazing the bone, tearing the muscle. They told him he was lucky, that it missed the artery and he'd mostly recover, eventually. All he heard was 'low priority'. In a good city, with a good force, with actual money, he could afford to sit around and wait to heal, or wait until he could get healed. In Brockton? They cut him off, dropped like bad meat. Gave him enough money to survive for a couple months for his years of service, and left him out to rot. His savings would give them another month or so, but he was already digging into it to get by. Looking for work, looking for parts, looking for anything.

Too much longer and he'd have to resort to the money he'd been stealing from the Merchants. He wasn't the smartest man out there, but even he knew you didn't fuck with the IRS. They'd see him magic up money, and come knocking. Then they'd have to run.

That, or get shipped off to join the heroes.

The crackle of broken glass crunching under thick boots had him look up from his power-gauntleted hands, to the entrance of the alley, where he saw a figure. He reached down to his side for his weapon for tonight- a rebar pole that still had a bit of concrete on one end. That was one lesson he hadn't had to learn in this hero gig. Never bother with guns, too noisy and lethal. Never bring your own weapons when you could just find one and toss it. Less blood to clean, or track home. Fewer tools he had to buy or replace.

He reared up, bulky suit standing just shy of two meters tall. He was big and he was slow, but God help you if you found yourself under the hammer he raised menacingly.

"Whoa, whoa!" The man said, holding up his hands. The lamps to either side of his faceplate lined up on him, and Reuben saw he was a lanky white blonde, which set him not liking the fool on principle. "Not here to fight."

"How did you find me?" He rumbled deeply. The speakers on his rig weren't the best, but you could understand the words coming out the other end, and that was enough.

The man grinned and shrugged. "It wasn't too hard. You've been busting up Merchants for the past few weeks, figured you'd be around." He nodded down to the scratched up leg plating. "You're not exactly the quietest guy."

He lowered the hammer, giving the illusion he was standing down. An upswing that'd barely kick at all with meat arms could still knock the fight out of any normal in his suit. "What do you want?"

"Just a chat." The man said, and Reuben's metal fist creaking the rebar in its grasp let the man know just how bullshit that sounded. "Alright, not... Okay. Just thought a guy like you might be getting tired of running solo."

"Pretty sure I'm a little too black for your club." The speakers did a halfway decent job masking his voice, but it couldn't hide that the words started deep. The Merchants had already picked up on his skin color, he didn't think he was giving up much shoving it in this asshole's face.

"Alright." The man said, his grin starting to strain a bit. He slowly reached up to his neck, digging a bit for a cord necklace under his shirt. "Think you might want to reconsider calling me a Nazi to my face." Dangling on the end of the cord, hanging in the beam of light, was a well worn but obviously old and cared for Star of David.

It was possible this guy was playing it up, taking some old Jew's necklace to get people like him to let their guards down. Reuben shifted, his stance less hostile, the hammer dropping a bit to rest on the ground. Something in his gut told him the man wasn't lying. The set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes, Reuben saw real hate there.

"Sorry." He rumbled.

Blondie put his necklace away. "All good. Not like I don't milk looking Aryan for everything it's worth around here." He stepped further into the alley, slowly at first, but picking up momentum when Reuben stepped to the side to make room. "So, I gotta ask. You've been running around hitting the gangs, mostly Merchants, but they could just be in your way." The man took a deeper breath. "Rogue, hero... or villain?"

Reuben had to admit, he'd put some thought into this question. He didn't care as long as they got by, but his thoughts always turned to his little Abigail, and what he'd leave behind for her. "...not that last one."

The man stared up into the faceplate for a few seconds before he nodded. "Name's Gerard." The man raised a hand as if to shake, but took a good look at the mitt of his gauntlets and held it up for a fistbump instead. Reuben humored him, letting him bop his fist on a raised gauntlet. "Engleman, though it's 'Gerry Stuart' if anyone looking too white asks."

He nodded, as much as his rig allowed for it. "So?" He prompted.

Gerard nodded back. "There's a new hero running around. Wants to gather up some independents and form up a team." Huh. Surprised they thought that'd work, but he couldn't fault their initiative. "Meeting's Sunday after next, Captain's Hill, 8PM. There's a little gazebo on the far side, that's the meeting point." He rummaged in his jacket as he kept talking. "It's fine if you don't wanna' show, no hard feelings." He finally pulled out a folded up slip of paper and held it up. "I, uhh... I've got the number for the burner phone we're coordinating this stuff through here, but... I don't know if you've got pockets on that thing?"

Reuben sighed and knelt down, taking a closer look at the sheet as it was unfolded. It didn't look like it'd been tampered with or coated in anything, and indeed just had a phone number string written on it. He cracked the back plating open, letting it clang against the internal mechanism he'd need to crank to open it further. Gerard refolded the note and tossed it through the gap before backing away, letting him winch the seal shut again. It made it harder to get in and out of, but that was kind of the point. Much harder to crack open if someone wanted to get at him, and very little way to accidentally hurt himself in the hatch and its mechanisms. It's not like getting out fast would save him from much right now, crippled as he was.

"So yeah, should always be someone at that number if you call it. Plan right now is to meet up at the gazebo and head into the woods nearby for a little privacy. If you've got any questions, or want to make the meeting and can't, just call and we'll figure something out."

"Who's this hero doing the recruiting?" He rumbled as he stood again.

Gerard grinned. "Her name's Terraform. Might want to keep an eye out for her." The man shook his head wistfully. "She's... sure something. Idealist type, with a hell of a chip on her shoulder."

A woman? Or a girl. Either way, he didn't think he could afford to turn a blind eye to the offer at hand. "I'll think about it. The team thing."

"All I can ask." Gerard said, backing away with a shrug before turning with a wave. He stopped at the entrance to the alleyway and turned back. "And hey, regardless? Good luck out there, Tin Man." He gave a jaunty salute, and headed off down the street.

Reuben sighed. That goddamn nickname was never going away, was it? Oh well, not like he'd come up with anything better to call himself.

He decided he was done for tonight, and made his way back to his van. He'd gotten it on the cheap, probably the stereotyping involved, and stripped it out to kit it as a transport for his rig. The only things he really had were his fitness to keep up with the beat cop life he'd fallen into for the past decade, as well as mechanic training he'd gotten growing up, and a little bit of engineering from school. More than enough for what he needed. Tinkertech was ridiculous, but good old fashioned know-how and ingenuity got you pretty far when you needed them to.

The back hatch of the long white panel van opened up when he tripped the signal for it to from inside his suit. He clambered in, grabbing handholds he'd welded in and pull-crawling his way inside. It was a tight fit, and he only made it fit by pulling up the rig's legs at the knee before he hit the button to shut the door. It was a bit of an awkward dance, getting in and shutting up the van to make an ambush harder while he cracked and cranked the hatch open, then opening the door to straighten his legs so he could crawl out of the suit before folding it all up again with a remote from the driver's seat.

It was silly, but it got the job done.

He thought on the offer, while he was driving back to the house he was still paying off. Plans made for a couple who both worked rarely panned out well when one of them passed early. A team could help with supplies, keeping up the stock for all this tinker gear without having to rummage around or steal from the gangs. A team could maybe help with money, set him up with a cover job to explain the gang money, since he still couldn't find anywhere hiring for the shit he was trained in. A team could help with safety...

His mind turned to Abigail. The last light of his life. That poor, sweet child who thought her daddy was a hero.

Yeah. Maybe a team could help with that.

Last edited: Mar 31, 2020

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Threadmarks Chapter 2.1 (Canberra, Part 1: Hurry Up and Wait) New

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ARC 2: MOMENTUM

Spoiler: Costume Reminder!

THU FEB 24

The klaxons blared as I stared out into my dark bedroom. My first thought, as anyone's, was hoping it wasn't here. My second was feeling terrible for wishing them on someone else. My rational mind tamped that down, and left me with a firm resolve. Even if it was here, I wasn't weak anymore. I wasn't helpless. I could fight.

I was already getting dressed when I recognized that the pattern of the sirens was for somewhere else. I kept throwing things on, and tore open my door. Dad was there, standing in his. He was leaning on the frame, still bleary-eyed even as wide as they were, and hadn't bothered changing out of his flannel pants or putting on a shirt.

"Taylor?" He muttered, confused. Then his heart stopped, his veins constricted in terror, and the organ flared back to rapid life. "No. Taylor, no."

"I have to help, dad." I said, barely audible over the noise.

He stumbled out of his doorway and made to wrap his arms around me, keep me here physically if he had to, but I held him off. With my strength, it was so easy I couldn't even justify calling it grappling. "Taylor, no." He moaned, his voice cracking.

"Dad, I'm not fighting!" I yelled, cutting him off. "I'm not stupid, I'm not suicidal. I'm not going to fight them." I could see my words were finally getting through and sinking in, leaving him still worked up, primed to fight, but confused. "But they break cities, dad. I can move mountains and see people under rubble. If I don't go, I'm always going to wonder how many people died because I wasn't there to save them."

"You're not fighting?" He muttered, tasting the words. His hands dropped and I let them go. He was staring at me, looking for any hint of falsehood in my words. "You'll be safe?"

"Yes, dad." I implored him to understand. The sirens finally stopped, leaving the world sounding hollow and quiet.

"Promise me." The words spilled out rapid and weak. "Swear it, swear you're coming back, Little Owl." This time when he tried to hug me, I let him. He kept muttering the words into my hair as I held him tightly. Neither of us were very religious, but the Endbringers had a way of changing minds about that. Any little comfort was welcome, and the words sounded like little prayers for my safety.

"I promise, dad. Just search and rescue. Fixing enough that they can handle the rest. I promise."

He pulled away, staring into my eyes again, and nodded. "I'm coming with you." It was nice that he wasn't simpering anymore, but this really wasn't the thing to regrow your spine about...

"Dad, I can run to the PRT building, dodging the traffic and being safer for it, in three minutes. One of those is because I'll probably get lost with how dark it is." My joke didn't do much to lighten the mood, but it wasn't completely ineffective.

"But..." Dad started, cut off by the house phone going off. We both glanced at the handset on his desk, in his room. Probably Gram calling to tell me not to go, too. I could tell Dad was considering picking up, seeing if both of them could talk me down, but a small, dark current of indignation held him back. He didn't want to agree with Gram on anything, but he would if it was for me.

I pounced while he was still hesitating. "Dad, New Wave helps out at these things, but they always wait until the... fight... is over." I didn't like calling it that, but all the other words for what happened at Endbringer fights weren't going to do me any favors convincing him. "I'll call Amy and meet up with them. I'll be fine, dad. I promise."

He stared at me, as the phone kept ringing. I saw the tension slowly leave him, could tell when he folded. He raised his arms slightly, and I came in for a hug. "Go do your hero thing." He muttered into my hair.

I nodded, and finished getting ready while he wandered over to the phone. I wanted to be gone before he got the chance to change his mind, so I quickly grabbed my masks and shoes, running down the stairs and out the door, barely pausing to lock it behind me. After that I started walking, fishing out my phone. It was a little after 1AM I noticed, as I navigated through to send Amy a text. 'I'm going with you. Meet when/where?' That sent, I dialed a number, listening to it ring as I watched for a good spot to mask up.

I felt a little bad about lying to dad about what I was doing, since I wasn't going straight to the PRT. If I was going to do this, it was going to be my big debut as a nationwide- or worldwide, depending on where the attack was- hero. I needed to make a good first impression. That meant I needed my costume. I was maybe halfway to Parian's shop when she answered, having found a decent spot to fumble my masks on with one-and-a-half hands given my phone, and then starting to run after that. I slowed down so the wind wouldn't ruin the call.

"Yes?" She grumbled, probably not at all happy that I'd been on something like the third call to her phone when she picked up.

"It's Terraform. I'm sorry to call so early, but I need my costume. Is it ready?" I tried to keep the huffing out of my voice, having run without airbending help so I could still hear if she picked up.

"What? No!" She spat. "I'm not going to let you run off and kill yourself-"

Oh goddammit, it was just the argument with dad all over again. I cut her off. "I'm not going to the fight, I'm doing search and rescue afterward. I want to look good doing it, and figured the costume would be more knife and whatever-else resistant than my hoodie." There was silence on the other line, so I wasn't sure if she was chewing on it, or disregarding me. "If you really want me to not make it to the fight, you should probably try to stall me by helping me get my costume ready. Please?" Still silence. "I'll owe you one?"

She grumbled out a long sigh after that. "Fine. I have one that's almost done..."

"Great!" I chirped happily. "I'm almost at your shop. Meet me there in a couple minutes?"

She stuttered out an affirmation, and I shut off the call. It was probably rude of me to assume she lived in the third floor loft over her shop, but what else would she do with the living space? It's not like anyone would go after her there, knowing the rest of the capes would instantly come crashing down on someone breaking the rules that openly.

Without having to worry about my phone, I ate the distance to her shop in a little over a minute, only going just slow enough to be sure I could keep my bearings in the dark. Sure enough, I could sense her already present, still fitting herself into her cape getup as I approached. I decided to let her have the time, and checked my phone for messages from Amy.

The first was what I'd expected, her going off on a 'don't fight Endbringers you stupid bitch' rant, followed a little later by the actually helpful information that they weren't expecting a teleport for at least another hour. A bit confused, I asked her why it would take that long. Her response about a minute later being 'Lots of teams, only so many teleporters, only a couple capes in Brockton that'd go to a Ziz fight, so we're bottom of the priority list.' which... I guess made sense. Armsmaster was the big name of the Brockton Protectorate, but he was a Tinker. Even I knew you didn't throw Tinkers at the Simurgh. Going down the list, the only flier was Dauntless, so everyone else would only be useful for emergency response and S&R, assuming they'd let themselves get anywhere near the Simurgh in the first place.

I sighed at that maudlin thought, hoping the city was getting enough support to still be there when we showed up, and sent Amy another text. This one asking her to keep me updated if anything changed. Figuring I'd given her the few minutes I'd promised, I knocked on the door to Parian's shop, and waited for her to let me in.

I was standing with my back to the door, keeping an 'eye' on the street, so I didn't appear to see her checking through the glass and huffing in irritation at me. I mean, I was keeping her up, when I'm sure she would've gone right back to bed after the sirens, had I not called. I did kind of deserve a grumping at.

The door clicked unlocked and opened, and I turned to see her holding her hand out to the partially-lit store. "Well, come on, then." She spoke shortly, and I complied.

She locked the door behind me, and turned back my way. "Thank you for helping me." I said, before she could snap at me. "I'm sorry for keeping you up, but this is important to me."

I could tell she was glaring, behind her mask, but the tumult of her mood had petered off with my apology. "One's image is rather important, yes." She kept up her glare for a moment, before she sighed. I'd just stood there looking appropriately contrite, deliberately ignoring the dark brown hair I could see poking out from under her wig, and other little things resulting from her rush to 'cape up'. "Come on."

She led me upstairs, to her work room, and had me sit while she pulled a trio of mannequins out of storage. My costumes looked... really good, actually. They had a neat military professional look to them, despite the pattern and colors not really fitting any particular national identity I could think of, which would be nice to avoid stepping on any toes. Parian glanced at the tags on them as they floated themselves up for ease of access, then took a few careful looks at the different suits, sliding two of them back to sit along the wall. "This is the closest to done. I was going to finish them over the weekend, including the boots and gloves, which I haven't started on yet." Large needles and thick thread started floating around her, as she started finishing the hem of the skirt, pins I hadn't noticed floating out of the costume as she got to them. "If you're set on going, you'll have to do without them."

"That's fine." I said, glancing down at the costume's bare trousers. I could deal with using my regular fake shoes this time. They were nearly due for replacing, anyway- Dad was right when he said they wouldn't last as long as normal shoes. "Do you have any paint? I could just color what I'm wearing..."

She glanced over, and shook her head. "Nothing that'd work right for that, no." She kept working after that, and I decided to cool my heels trying to meditate. "I'm surprised you're not chomping at the bit, from your call." She remarked a few minutes later.

I checked my phone, it wasn't quite 1:30 yet, and no updates from Amy. "I checked after I called, and someone said the teleporters wouldn't be by for an hour or so. I'd like to get there ASAP, sure, but I've got a little time." I said with a shrug.

Parian hummed, not seeming to slow or speed her work any. "I'll be done in... fifteen minutes, or so." She said, continuing to finish the hems. A couple minutes later, she moved on to finishing the stitching in the pants, and a few minutes after that, checked the zipper under the 'tabard' looking part of the coat, and started sewing some white clip-buttons into the hem, to help hide it. Then she double-checked they worked properly, tested several of the other seams along the coat, and stood back to her full height. "Done."

"Great!" I said, hopping up. "Do you mind helping me get it on?" I was already pulling my hoodie up as I asked that, not really caring that it dragged my slightly sweaty shirt up along with it, giving the woman an eyeful of my abs and sports bra. Her heartbeat and tension cues sparked upward, probably just my ceramic mask coming off in the bundle. I reached in and grabbed the thing, affixing it back over my domino mask and pulling my shirt back down. "Sorry about that." I said, causing her eyes to snap back up to mine. I started fiddling with my pants, only to stop and tilt my head at her. "Do those work as pants, or just over-coverings?"

She bit her lip behind her mask, glancing down at my legs, over to the mannequin, and back again. "They're... pants, yes."

I nodded, and continued shucking mine. Then I grabbed my wallet and phones to move over, kicking the hoodie and pants into a little pile by the chair I'd been sitting in. "Uhhm...?" I halfheartedly prompted, causing her to jump slightly and look up from my legs with her nerves thumping in her chest. She must not've done the shower room thing in school, I guessed.

"Right!" She said, focusing on the costume, undoing its buttons and zippers. It really was just a thick coat and pants, it seemed. I slipped into the pants first, so Parian would stop having to feel awkward. They were a little loose, but not enough that I'd need a belt. I stowed my phones and wallet, and let her feed my arms into the sleeves of the levitating coat. I fluffed my hair out from under it, and turned to look in the mirror. Something seemed... off. I looked good, and I could tell I'd look even better if I had an actual figure to fill the costume out a little, but something didn't quite click.

I grabbed at the wavy ruffles extending from my head. "My hair." The statement was low, and mildly horrified. I started pulling at it, trying to smooth it out and failing. I started trying to weave it into a braid, but I was out of practice, always leaving it down like mom's usually was since her death, and usually just having Emma braid it, before that. "It's too distinct." I half-moaned. I didn't want wearing mom's hair out to be a problem, but it was just like the glasses thing! I gave up on the braid, trying to pull it all into a bun like Gram's. She had less hair to bun up than I did, but managed to make it look pretty good with the hair that'd passed matrilineally to me. "How do buns work?" I huffed, a slight edge of hysteria starting to creep into my voice. "I'm going to be late if I take too much longer with this!"

"Here." Parian said, and I was slightly startled to realize I'd been tunnel-visioning to the point of treating her like just another mannequin in the room. One hand rested gently on my shoulder, and the other shooed my hands away from my hair, before settling on my crown. She slowly moved it down through my hair, a gentle caress that left tingles in its wake. As her fingers glided through my locks, they slowly untangled and straightened, and I realized she was using her power on it. The telekinesis pulled my hair- had it pulling itseif- into order, at her will. By the time the gentle stroke of her fingertips reached my mid-back, I could already tell my hair was straighter than it'd ever been, since that's where it usually ended, with its usual curls. The tingling touch extended into the curve of my lower back, the hand lingering slightly as it fell lower. She drew it away, back to where I could see it in the mirror, and slowly curled it into a fist. I watched her wrist twirl and fingers clench, my hair cinching itself into a tight ball at the base of my skull. She inspected the work from a couple angles, then glanced over her kit of tools. A couple were floating where I could see them in the mirror, but more were outside my sight. It was slightly unnerving knowing there were things floating where I couldn't see or sense them, but the moment didn't last long before she pulled a pair of thin steel rods to herself. It took me longer than I liked to recognize them as knitting needles, which she pierced into my hair in a couple places. "There."

I reached up to lightly touch the needles, and my ball of hair. I was surprised at how far it'd compacted itself down. "Wow. Uhm, thanks?" I turned back to her, and her eyes drifted back up to my mask from admiring her handiwork.

"Can I go back to bed, now?" She asked in a drowsy monotone.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry." I glanced around for anything I might be forgetting, and spied my shed clothing. "Do you mind if I pick those up with the rest of the costume stuff?"

She shrugged and muttered, "Sure." I could tell she was tired, but it became especially apparent with how far she was slipping out of character.

I hopped down the stairs, rather eager to get moving, as well as let her have her night back. "Thanks again." I said as she came to unlock the door.

"Please don't make a habit of it." She drolled, motioning to the empty street.

I gingerly stepped past her, giving a small wave and repeating, "I mean it, thank you so much."

She hesitated, biting her lips again, feeling conflicted and wary. "Hey, about the hair thing..." I hummed affirmatively. "...don't tell anyone about that?"

I chuckled softly. "I... don't know too much about what all goes into the Endbringer truce, but I'm pretty sure secrets are in there somewhere." I shrugged. "I wouldn't say anything anyway, but... I figured you'd trust that more."

She nodded, feeling a little more relieved at my words. Then she lifted her hand in an aborted wave of her own, and slid the door shut. I heard the lock click, and felt her heave out a sigh. She glanced around the door to check on me through the windows. I nodded and turned, realizing how awkward I must look just standing around. I started walking, then hopped to a jog, working my way up to a wind-boosted sprint towards the PRT building. The whole way I watched Parian trudge her way first to the lights to switch them back off, then upstairs to her bed, barely divesting herself of her mask, wig, and ruffles, before she collapsed back into bed.

There were a pair of PRT troopers manning the door when I skidded to a halt on the sidewalk outside the PRT building. "Hey, am I late? Did I get here in time?"

The agents looked to each other, then one of them motioned inside, which I took to mean that I'd made it. I hopped up the stairs and strolled into the main lobby, only to stop dead, staring at the gathered capes. New Wave and a boy in armor to one side, most of them drinking coffee to wake up, the boy I recognized as Shielder instead sipping at one of those godawful energy drinks Greg swore by. That was fine.

It was the swarm of Nazis on the other side of the room that had me pause.

It looked like they had nearly their entire roster here. The only ones I recognized to be missing were Purity, Crusader, and that one gasmasked 'blitzkrieg' or whatever. I knew I should know them all by sight, this far into my career... but it just never came up. I decided I should change that, the next chance I got.

I knew Kaiser. Everyone knew him. He was flanked by the Twins, with the rest of his capes to the side of them closer to me, and on the other stood Miss Militia a good few paces off. It felt slightly ironic that the hero standing closest to them was the only one here I knew to be non-white. If I had to guess from how tense she felt, she was keeping an eye on them. Opposite her were Hookwolf's bunch, him, Cricket, and Stormtiger. A little closer to me and slightly apart from the rest of the Empire stood Victor and Othala, very close to one another. Separated a ways off, but nearer to them than anyone else, Rune sat bundled in one of the lobby's chairs.

Their reactions varied quite a bit, most of the Empire capes started eyeing me, sizing up the new competition in their own ways. The big exceptions being Hookwolf and Othala, who didn't seem to care about me, and Rune, who felt nervous and conflicted all of a sudden. Maybe it had to do with our last fight? Miss Militia felt guardedly optimistic when she glanced my way, and the half of New Wave I hadn't yet met felt similar. Mark wasn't here, but the rest of the Dallons were. Carol seemed to recognize me, if the indignant frustration bubbling up under her natural wary mistrust was anything to go by. Vicky and the boy in red and gold armor were more curious than anything.

Amy, of course, recognized me instantly. She felt weary, tired. She didn't want to be here, but knew it was the right thing to do. She also didn't want me here, from the brief spike of worry and fear when she caught sight of me, alongside the mild surprise at my costume. I'd described it, but as the saying went, a few words rarely compared favorably to seeing something for yourself. This all simmered down into the frustrated apathy of those awoken far too early, tinged with small flares of jealousy. That confused me for a bit, until I remembered how much she didn't like her own costume, which she hadn't had much say in the design for.

I steadfastly ignored the whispered conversations from the Nazi half of the room, making a beeline for Amy. About a third of the way there, she caught my eye and subtly shook her head. I hesitated. Right, Taylor knew Amy. Showing up to a fight with Panacea in tow was one thing, there might be a good reason for that to happen which didn't involve us knowing each other. Jumping straight to chatting like we knew each other would shoot any attempt at obfuscating my identity in the foot. I kept the same course, but my target shifted slightly.

"Hey, you're Kid Win, right?" I knew Gallant had a knight theme, which this boy certainly didn't, narrowing things down handily.

"Uh, I-yeah." He stammered shyly. If I had to guess, he was used to having the rest of the Wards around to draw attention away.

"So... where is everyone?" I hedged, adamantly ignoring Vicky pulling Amy slightly away to begin a whispered interrogation about me. The rest of New Wave kept an eye on me, but I didn't think their own low conversations were about me. "I wasn't expecting Wards, but I thought there'd be more Protectorate heroes." He glanced around nervously, though his helmet should have hidden most of it. "I'd ask Miss Militia, but she looks... busy." I said softly, giving him another few seconds to gather himself.

The heroine in question had moved slightly, to keep myself and the villains in sight. Behind her, I could see monitors on the walls. Where usually they'd be playing various ads, safety videos, and clips of the local heroes; instead most of them had a large countdown running, with about thirty-six minutes remaining. The monitor next to it had much smaller font, but I could make out 'BROCKTON BAY: 413' and under it a counter that was slowly ticking up. It'd held at '198' since I'd gotten here, but jumped up to '204' as I watched. Amy was right, we were abysmally low priority, it seemed.

"Uh, yeah." He finally muttered again. "Most of them are staying back. Miss Militia has experience coordinating things, Velocity can easily make it right before the timer's up, and Armsmaster..." I could tell he fidgeted slightly, despite it being mostly hidden by his rigid armor. "He's the sort of Tinker who can make every minute count..." -unlike me, I could tell he was thinking. I didn't know if it was naturally low self-esteem, or comparisons to Armsmaster that I hadn't realized before now that he'd face almost constantly, but he really didn't have a very high opinion of himself. I had no idea what I could do about it, though. The kindest thing would probably be to ignore it, for now.

"What about the other Wards? If you're here, are they coming, too?" By now Amy had huffed and started stonewalling Vicky, instead of trying to deflect, obfuscate, or lie about any connection we might have, based on both being at that fight last week. I could feel Vicky's aura flaring over the room now and then, but forced myself to ignore it. She was pouting now, looking around for something else to focus on, her eyes always straying back to myself and Kid Win, curiosity that I was.

He shook his head. "Clock, Aegis, and Gallant don't do Endbringer stuff. It's a little weird Shadow Stalker isn't here, though. She usually..." He trailed off, uncomfortably.

"...likes rubbing in how much better at Search and Rescue she is?" Vicky cut in, smiling impishly. He grumbled, but didn't outright deny it. Shadow Stalker sounded... unpleasant.

"What about Vista?" I asked.

Kid winced, glancing to Vicky, who had a classic 'Oh, please don't tell, my version is much more detailed and embarassing~' twinkle in her eyes as she smiled at us. He sighed and relented. "Vista... isn't allowed to go." Vicky's grin widening slightly had him bite back a groan and continue. "The last time there was a Simurgh fight, Vista went for search and rescue. It was before I'd finished joining the Wards, and she doesn't like talking about it, but she was hurt. Stabbed by a Ziz-bomb." I hadn't heard about that, but a glance over to Vicky and Amy showed they weren't surprised. Depending on how bad it was, Amy might have been asked to heal it, so that made sense. "Since then, they put new regulations in place. No Wards under 15 at away fights, even with parental permission." He paused to shake his head. "She's... still really mad about being at the center of that." I would be, too. "We've tried arguing that it was a Ziz plot, with kids triggering younger on average every year, to keep young Wards that could make a serious difference out of the fights, but all that did was land her in M/S for a week."

I didn't need the winces around to tell that sounded unpleasant, and I didn't even know what it meant. "M. S.?"

He cringed. "Master/Stranger protocols. For telling if someone's had their mind altered, or might not be who they say they are. I'm... not sure how much else I'm allowed to tell you about it." Yeah, that didn't sound remotely pleasant.

"So, uh," I said a bit louder, changing the subject. "What should I expect when we get there?"

The two of them floundered a little, though I wasn't sure why. I knew these fights were bad, but then they'd just say it was bad, wouldn't they?

"Oh-ho? Newbie wants advice now, does she?" The deep voice crowed from behind me. I watched the figure amble over from the middle of the pack with my senses, not really wanting to turn and interact with them, even as I cringed. Maybe I'd been a little too loud?

"Go away, Hookwolf." Vicky growled, glaring over my shoulder. I could feel her aura pick up, trying to run him off, but I pushed the feelings down. I really didn't feel like 'awe' right now. The rest of the room was tensely watching, and I could feel Rune jump to her feet and trail after him. She ended up a little behind him, a couple meters off to the side, near the exit. She felt worried, concerned, irritated, and a little angry, though I couldn't tell who each of those were aimed at.

The man slapped a hand over his thin-shirted chest, miming a shot to the heart. "Oh no, and here I was, just bein' neighborly." I could tell he was feeling the irrational fear response from Vicky's aura, but wasn't letting it stop him. I tried to remember if they'd fought before, or if he was just used to ignoring fear as a nearly-indestructible frontline fighter. It had to be something like that, with the way Rune was nearly cowering under the same effect. "Girlie wants advice on dealing with an Endbringer's mess, then I figured as one of the few people in the room with experience fighting the things, I might have a touch of seniority on the topic." He grinned widely under his full-face mask.

That's what this was. Strutting, making himself feel bigger, poking barbs at the heroes while they couldn't shoot him for it. It reminded me of Emma and all her top bitch socialite bullshit. I'd hated him on principle as a murderous Nazi before, but this was just making me dislike him on a personal level, on top of that. "But not the Simurgh fights?" I asked, finally turning to face him and trying to affect as much of an 'unimpressed' look as I could, as well-covered as I was.

My barb struck a nerve, but he didn't show it outwardly, refusing to let himself lose face. Instead he shrugged widely. "The fuck am I supposed to do to some flighty bitch up in the air? I know I'm a ground-pounder." Can't concede, can't let himself lose, not in his nature to let things slide, but can't revenge the slight violently like he wants to, with the truce on. "Besides, you've seen the line for the smurf fights." He pointed with a thumb back towards the monitors, now morosely displaying a static '212' with about half an hour to go. "Anyway, important thing is, if you're not a Mover, they'll have you digging civvies out of the rubble." He said, dismissively. Then he grinned, a savage, wicked thing behind his mask. "But if you are a Mover, you'll be on cordon duty with me and your fliers." He twitched his chin up at New Wave. "There'll be two rings of flares around the city, where they're gonna be putting up the walls. Anyone from inside passes the first, you shoo them back inside." He shook his head sadly, despite his smile. "But if they get past the second one..." He reached his right hand up slightly, his middle finger shredding as the flayed filaments distorted and distended, forming into thin chains and braided cords of barbed and bladed metal. The thin whip slowly slithered its way through the air across his chest, until it reached his neck. He flicked its tip across his throat in a quick and brutal gesture, before the digit reformed and he continued the motion into a shrug.

I grit my teeth furiously, my hands clenching as I fought down the urge to punch him in his smug shit-eating grin. He wasn't here to help the city. He wasn't here to save anyone. He was here to kill people and get away with it. I wasn't the only one bristling, either. Most of New Wave had tensed, and Amy was actively holding Vicky back with a hand on her sister's chest.

"Hookwolf, please, you're not helping." Rune cut in, causing the man to glare in her direction. Then he noticed the eerie silence from the rest of his cadre as they watched, his eyes panning over them until they reached Kaiser himself, whose head shifted in a tiny negative shake.

He scoffed, but prowled away towards Stormtiger and Cricket, muttering "Shut up, brat." to Rune as he went.

The tension died down a bit as he left, New Wave letting the imminent violence drain out of them, while Kid Win uncoiled a bit from his subtle cowering in the face of goddamned Hookwolf, which was pretty understandable all things considered.

"Don't talk to anyone." I'd assumed Rune would follow Hookwolf back to their side of the room, but instead she glanced their way and slowly approached us. "When we get there, don't talk to anyone." She stopped a couple feet shy, when it looked like Vicky was tensing up to punch her Junior Nazi face in. "They're not people anymore, not really." Vicky snapped at her, and Rune flinched, taking a step back and cowering away.

Despite my mask, I halfheartedly glared at my friend, still held back slightly by her sister. "Vicky, aura." I muttered sharply. "There's still a truce on, snap a cap on it."

Vicky gave me a confused look, but she did settle down a bit. She huffed and floated away slightly, her sister holding her place between all of us. I could tell Amy was frustrated, at least partly with me, but I didn't have the time to unpack that right now. I turned back to rune and curtly motioned for her to get on with it.

She was still wary and worried, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it was me she was worried for, though I had no idea why. The fact that she felt like she was telling the truth helped a little, but considering dehumanizing others was part of the Empire's rhetoric, not as much as it usually would. "I know that sounds bad, and I know most of the people in the city are just normal people stuck there with the bombs, but it's the one you stop and talk to, the one you let yourself think is still a person, and isn't, that hurts you." She shook her head sadly, and I could feel how ashamed she felt, admitting it. "Not even physically, either. They'll say something, do something, and it might not matter now, but someday down the line, it'll come up, or you'll remember… and then you'll hesitate, or overreact, or whatever, and something terrible will happen because you talked to a bomb." Her words had grown more heated as she spoke, peaking near the end loud enough that it was possible the rest of the room might have overheard it. She seemed to realize this, and shrunk self-consciously in on herself. She shook her head, continuing at her original quiet volume, a surprising amount of worry and compassion to her emotions and tone. "Please, just… don't talk to anyone. It's better that way." Her piece said, she made her way back to her prior seat, skirting around the rest of her gang, and steadfastly ignoring their calculating eyes.

"Well," Amy muttered after Rune passed out of earshot. "…she's not entirely wrong."

"Ames!" Vicky whined, disappointed.

She shrugged. "Carol said the same thing before we left the house, and Aunt Sarah said it again before we came here. Are you going to say they're wrong, too?"

Victoria was fidgeting, uncomfortable. Kid Win and most of New Wave were also feeling varying levels of conflicted over the conversation they were overhearing. "You don't have to agree with her, though." She grumbled halfheartedly.

Amy shrugged again. "I don't really like it, either, but someone had to tell Terra."

"Thanks, Panacea." I said, fumbling slightly over her cape name. She grunted and wandered a little closer to her family, letting the room settle down into a rather awkward silence for about a minute.

Miss Militia put a hand to her ear after that, drawing eyes, including mine, across the room. The words and numbers on the monitors behind her were blinking. She nodded, then turned fully towards the crowd. "The fight's over! Everyone get ready to head out." Her voice projected over the room fairly well without yelling. Our place in the queue was knocked down a few places, and the estimated time to departure settled down at about six minutes.

The numbers didn't quite make sense until I noticed the 'current' queue number jumping far more rapidly now. "Does that really make such a huge difference?" I wondered out loud.

Kid Win answered. "A lot of the transport capes won't go near an active Endbringer fight, let alone a Simurgh fight, add in that about half the mass-teleporters we have access to are Tinkers who use their tech to do it…?" He trailed off, sadly.

"…and Tinkers are bad for Simurgh fights." I finished, morosely. I suppose if anything explained cutting our queue time by twenty-something minutes, getting more than half their teleporters actually participating would do it.

The room settled into a tense silence while we waited out the clock. About three minutes to leaving, the elevator dinged and swished open, dispensing Armsmaster into the room. He strode in, in all his blue-chrome glory, trailed by a small floating trolley laden with plastic crates. His eyes scanned the room, fixating on me as he pulled up next to Miss Militia. "New cape?"

"Terraform, sir." I responded, having to pitch my voice louder to project across the room. I had to wonder if the Protectorate had training for doing that so easily, or if it was something that came with an age I hadn't hit, yet.

He hummed and nodded. "Good to have you with us." He then immediately turned to start a hushed conversation with Miss Militia that I couldn't overhear. I pushed down the flash of giddiness that flared up at his words, now wasn't the time for fangirling. He grabbed one of the smaller crates off the top of the trolley, popped it open with one hand and drew a thick plastic band out of it. Then he set it down and sent it skidding to the middle of the room with his foot. "Com bands." He announced, before making his way over to me. Several of the Nazis started audibly grumbling over the disrespect they were being shown, but it was hard to feel bad for them. Victor, Stormtiger, Cricket, and one of the twins went to the box to grab enough for the rest of them, as the Tinker got to us. "Comms check?" He asked, looking to New Wave.

"Already done." Brandish answered, getting a nod in return.

"I assume you don't have your own radio?" He asked me, and I shook my head. He nodded, holding the band out to me. It looked a lot like a bulky plastic version of a sweatband, with a basic screen taking up most of its face, and two large-ish buttons taking up the rest. "Hold the top button to talk, press the bottom one to ping your position, hold both for emergency override. Do not abuse that privilege." I nodded, and was briefly distracted by Velocity streaking through the room from the front entrance, ending next to Miss Militia. "Press the top button, and follow the startup prompts." He said, drawing my full attention again. "Good luck." Social niceties complete, he gave a curt nod and turned to gather up the box of armbands on his way back to the other Protectorate heroes.

It took me a second to figure out the release latch, then clip the band over my wrist. I hit the button and 'State Name' popped up on the screen. I held it up to my mask and stated "Terraform." By the time I drew it away, the prompt had changed to 'TERRAFORM, Confirm?' with a 'Yes' next to the top button, and a 'No' by the bottom one. I hit yes, and the band started to slowly flash 'STANDBY' at me. It was finally starting to really sink in that this was happening. I was going to another country to help with emergency disaster relief. I was going to be saving lives. People were going to be counting on me.

I drew in a deep breath and slipped into the first stages of meditation, clearing the clutter from my mind and focusing on what was important. This was happening, and I was ready for it. That's all that mattered.

Last edited: Feb 17, 2020

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Threadmarks Chapter 2.2 (Canberra, Part 2: Canberra) New

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Dalxein

Dalxein

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Feb 20, 2020

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#263

THU FEB 24

We waited in tense silence as the clock ticked down, starting to flash red at the thirty-second mark, which I guessed meant we should expect our ride any second now. At precisely twelve seconds from zero, my senses detected a new person in the room. I turned to look at him, not sure what to expect, but what looked startlingly like a blue-suited bellhop, or old-timey elevator operator, certainly wasn't it. He was heaving very slightly, stress responses high, but hiding it well enough. He raised his hand to tap his blue beret-looking hat with a jaunty salute, his smile not quite reaching the eyes under his large identity-concealing goggles. It felt like he was taking a second to breathe before jumping back into the thick of things, and I couldn't really begrudge that at all. The rest of his outfit actually reminded me more of my own, than any others that came to mind. A large blue padded coat, with a lightning motif along the seam, where I had my tabard-looking part. The rest of the costume was subdued by comparison, really just matching the colors, adding shin and elbow guards, along with gloves.

"Everyone ready to go?" He called, catching the attention of everyone who hadn't already noticed him. "Gather 'round, tight-ish."

There were a few muttered thanks from the New Wave adults and Protectorate capes, Armsmaster's the loudest of them. "Thank you for prioritizing us, Strider."

I'd actually heard about this guy. He was supposed to be one of the best teleporters in the world, though I thought he was independent? "No trouble at all." He replied, motioning us all closer. He didn't seem entirely honest about it, and I had to wonder if there were favors being traded under the table to get the best ride picking us up. When we'd all bunched into a circle about three meters across, I had a sudden flash of vertigo, and we were outside. The sun beat down oppressively from above, while distant yelling and sirens flooded our hearing. "Good luck." Strider said, then he was gone.

When my eyes finished adjusting a second later, I glanced around to verify what my senses were already telling me. We stood near the edge of a large lake cutting the city in two, a couple blocks away from a heavily damaged bridge that used to span a narrower section of it. From what I could sense, this spot was chosen more for being central to the damage, rather than as a particularly open landing zone. Velocity was already gone, and Miss Militia had started off towards a makeshift command node. Armsmaster hadn't moved yet, but he was already talking on his helmet radio.

An armored trooper holding a tablet computer tromped up from where he'd been waiting nearby. From the looks of similar setups nearby, there were a bunch of 'landing zones' for the incoming parahumans, each with at least one of these greeter troops. "Brockton Bay?" It wasn't really a question. Despite the inflection, his eyes scanned over the crowd and his tablet without any sign of surprise or confusion I could detect. "Movers and fliers know what you're doing?" When he got nothing but affirmative gestures and noises, he turned to Armsmaster. "Comms set up?" The Tinker paused his conversation just long enough to give the man a thumbs-up and a nod. "Good," The trooper turned back to the rest of us. "Get to it, then."

Hookwolf grinned and his body shredded, flaying itself and hardening, adding mass and whirling into a writhing, roiling ball of sharp and deadly, rolling away for about half a second before his preferred lupine form leapt from the mass, sprinting away. I could sense there was very little solid to him, despite being made of metal. It was all ropes and chains and cords of metal, coiling and gripping on each other, pulsing in time in a twisted facsimile of musculature, holding its shape with the few larger solid blades within the mass acting like splintered, disconnected bones.

I barely noticed Kid Win and most of New Wave taking to the air, I was so close to being sick all of a sudden.

"Triage camp is by Capital Hill," The agent continued, mercifully drawing my attention away. I saw him pointing towards the largest pillar of smoke coming from this side of the lake, in the middle of a circular structure formed from the roads around it, like the center of a simple dreamcatcher. I could feel the remains of a much more densely packed version on the other side of the lake, with far more damage than this one had suffered. "If you hit the crater, take a left."

"Come on, Ames." Vicky said, quickly bundling the healer in her arms. As she sped into the air, I caught her saying "Glory Girl and Panacea..." into her radio before distance and the Trooper talking again overpowered the sound.

"They got hit hard." The man sad with a sad shake of his head. "That's one of the high damage areas, we had command and triage near the parliament building to try and consolidate defenses, but it didn't work, and then we couldn't move the injured." He pointed across the lake, towards the other circle of streets. "Ziz parked over city hall and smashed up a lot of the nearby buildings, that's where most of the damage in city limits is. Bitch also smashed the reservoir dam nearby," He pointed off mostly perpendicular to the first two areas, where I could feel the shallow river valley on the edge of the city, and the remains of the dam that was still slowly crumbling and eroding as water flowed over the top of what was left of it. "which caused a lot of damage downstream, tying up some of the country's emergency services to handle that. If you head off chasing that, we won't follow." He pointed back across the city again, completing the little cross of damage dealt. "Finished off by smashing the relay from the rest of the city's water suppliers, and the bridges to cross the lake with. Those are lower priority, but if you can tinker up a water purifier, that'd be fantastic." The man turned away then, tapping away at the tablet, clearly not expecting anyone to actually help with that. Manpower and Brandish broke off at that point, following after Vicky and Amy.

"I can do water!" I yelled, flinching at my own overeager volume. The man turned back, and I raised a stream of water out of the lake. It was murky from the collapsed bridges and who knew what else, but I split the water as I pulled it towards us, one streamer becoming murkier, and the other nearly clear. "I'm pretty sure I can make drinking water."

Everyone nearby, especially the capes, were paying attention to me, now. "One moment." Armsmaster said, and I wasn't sure if he was talking to me, or whoever he'd been on the line with. He depressed a section of his armor near his lower back, and drew a small cylindrical tool from the section that opened up. He walked up, shoving his entire hand, gizmo and all, into the clearer glob of water. A few seconds later, he pulled it out, glancing at it before looking at some readout or other I couldn't see on his visor display. "It's not pure, but it should be potable." I tried not to wince at the man basically saying 'It'll do.' "I'll get some teams working on building and refurbishing water tanks." He turned fully to me, then. "Terraform, I'll want you back here in a couple hours, to start filling tanks." It took me a moment to realize he wanted a response, and I gave a jerky nod. He turned to go back to what he'd been doing, before he hesitated. "This is a very good thing, you can do." With a nod, he went back to his conversation, pulling his hover trolley along behind him as he made his way over to the tents Miss Militia had left for. I ignored that Brandish had stopped to watch, too. She gave me an odd conflicted look before following a slightly impatient Manpower to where the country's capital building used to be.

Nothing left to do with it, I directed the water back into the lake, both streams flowing into it without splashing. With the display of my abilities over, the rest of the Empire capes drew away slightly. Kaiser raised his hands, and a single massive blade began to creep up from the road next to them. It was weird feeling the thing sprout and widen, then extend, the metal seeming to appear and mold itself from nothing. It only took about six seconds for the thin three-by-four meter metal obelisk to finish forming, slowly digging itself deeper into the road for stability as it went, subsuming the material into more of the same metal.

Then Rune stepped up to it, and ran her finger over a small section of it in a quick but intricate pattern. The blade lifted itself out of the road, leaving a thin but somewhat deep divot, and tilted onto its side. Their capes started filing on, Rune getting on last. Our eyes met as I watched, and she gave me an apologetic grimace before the blade lifted off the ground and cut them from my senses.

As they floated away across the lake, I felt confused. I tried to puzzle out why she'd feel like that, but the effort just made me feel frustrated. The confusion shifted to indignance, fury bubbling to the fore of my mind. I wasn't some weak nobody to be pitied. I was here to save people, and I was going to be amazing at it. I'd wipe that look right off her damned face!

I took a running leap off the edge of the lakefront, the water rising to meet me, freezing to my feet and forming into an ice board. I landed rather softly in the water, coasting forward as I spun slightly, coiling the water underneath me into an artificial current that had me shooting across to the other side. The water at the other side formed into a shallow ramp that had me flying over the quay and between the first buildings on the other side. Just water damage here, nothing structural, I didn't have to worry about stopping. The ice turned to water and I let it drop to the road first, before my feet hit the surface and I transitioned into a roll, conserving most of my momentum and popping up already sprinting.

At first I aimed myself at the closest destroyed building, where I could sense six body-shapes, two of which still had signs of life. The emergency responders were all clustered around the center of the damage, where there were more buildings down, more people to help... and more able-bodied people to help them help survivors. As much as it pained me to admit it, the more time I personally spent picking people out and dragging them to medical aid, the less I was spending doing what I'd be best for- moving large amounts of rubble.

I dashed past with a wind-assisted sprint, quickly coming to the point where taller damaged buildings were spilling their rubble into the road and making travel more difficult. There were people here helping, but not as many as further on, and fewer capes. Most of them were coming from the north, or going around the lake to come at the problem from the sides, rather than taking the straight path through like I had. I knocked a bit of rubble out of the road to start clearing things, but another couple blocks and there was nowhere for it to go, and I stopped bothering. I was still running, now vaulting up to more stable outcroppings, kicking off and leaping between them on my way past. I skidded to a halt on the other side, where the crews from the north were trickling in. Most of them, and the majority of the capes nearby, were diving into the middle of it, where the worst of the damage and the most downed buildings were. I didn't want to disrupt that yet, not without showing that I could actually help. So I turned to the sides, the outlying damage, tapering off like spokes from where beams or other attacks had been redirected, or buildings thrown by the endbringer. The center of the damage was worse, having debris rained on them from her protective cloak of airborne buildings, or being crushed under the chaotic swirl of material she'd pull up to protect herself or harry the capes with.

That was fine, it meant buildings where people were crawling around or through debris, instead of on top of it. "Careful! Moving rocks!" I called, pulling several chunks people were having to squeeze around away, opening doorways or clearing hallways. After the first couple piles of rubble I shifted to the street, I started finding buildings where moving the rubble might destabilize the rest. I thrust pillars of stone or concrete, whatever was under the buildings, up to hold the structure while I pulled away detached walls, or nearly complete floors with no more walls to support them. Having shown off what I could do, and not seeing much else I could help with on this street, I headed for the bulk of the damage.

The buildings here were a lot taller than I was used to, with the loamy coastal soil of Brockton Bay. Back home 'Tall' buildings were four of five stories, only buildings near the Towers ever breaking ten, hence the name. Medhall stood at a comparatively gigantic 20 stories, well past the limit of what was safe for most of the city's soil. It was surprising to me how much rubble seven, ten, fifteen storey buildings left behind, if you built rows of them, and then knocked them all down. It spread into the streets, consumed alleyways, and left a sea of rubble for blocks in a rough circle.

There were people tackling the rubble from the sides, but that'd take weeks or months to clear it, which the survivors didn't have. So most of the responders, a lot of them looking like desperate or determined civilians, were climbing on top of the rubble to dig down into it. There were Brutes doing the work of five or ten men apiece, Movers diving in and dragging the injured out. I spied a Blaster, destroying larger chunks of rubble when a crew wearing hardhats and safety vests told them it was safe. There were even a couple Shakers, telekitetics or geokinetics like me, levitating larger pieces away. Those I grabbed out of the air to their surprise, pulling them over to a shallow pile on a sidewalk.

"Everyone move!" I shouted, catching their attention, but not provoking the response I was after. I took a wide stance, flashing my hands out palm-first, then repeating the motion and clenching my hands into fists. The rubble under their feet for nearly an entire block shifted upward slightly, just enough to get their attention, or make people stumble a little at worst. I held it there, preventing anything from slipping deeper. "Everybody off! I'm moving it all!"

That got people moving. There were some calls of confusion, some people yelling at me, asking me what I thought I was doing, but no one got very close, and the people on the rubble never stopped moving. I cut off the angrier ones by raising my right hand, still clenched, and drawing dozens, then hundreds, of chunks of brick, concrete, and plaster into the air from places the diggers had vacated.

"I need a dumping zone!" I flicked my head back, to indicate behind me. Everyone on solid ground, the ones who weren't staring dumbfounded at the levitating stone anyway, started shooing people. It was chaos for a couple seconds, before they fell into agreement and cleared one side of the street for me. It wasn't a lot of space, and it was going to run out quick. "Can we get some trucks or something?" I asked.

"Already on it." One of the hardhats called back. He wasn't the only one on the radio, I saw a few capes speaking into wristbands, and members of other crews on handsets. I didn't hear anything from my armband, but I heard some tinny noises from other ones. I guess they filtered who got what messages somehow, and to be fair, I didn't need to know everything that was going on in the whole city.

By the time I'd deposited the first load of rubble, the climbers had mostly cleared a couple building-sized swaths of area, so I used both hands and lifted. Solid-looking masses of loose bits came up, small non-stone bits of stuff that hadn't been particularly attached to the building materials dropping out of it, the largest bits being office chairs that were light enough I let them fall, and a desk I managed to catch with another chunk of brickwork before it landed. There weren't many people left alive under so much rubble, but uncovering them was my priority. "Get them out and move!" I shouted, a slight pant of effort cutting into my voice. "I'm holding the stone rubble steady, don't worry about it shifting!" I took a moment to breathe and focus. "There's more people down there!"

The hardest part was dealing with how many things I was controlling at once. The things I was lifting and moving, and all the bits of rubble I was holding still enough to be safe, it was a lot. Compared to that, the density and weight of the materials weren't much of a factor. The chunks I was lifting were rarely more than a ton each. The effort needed was slowly easing as I got used to it, but it was still the most tiring thing I'd done since getting my powers.

Eventually we settled into a bit of a tempo, fewer and fewer normal people rushing in when I cleared rubble. They left it to the Movers, and those Brutes whose strength came with additional speed or agility. If it took them longer than a few seconds to find someone in the open, I'd taken to holding bits of brick or plaster in the air right above them like a marker. Things slowed down when it started getting dark, but they passed out flashlights and set up larger floodlights where we were working. Sadly there weren't enough large trucks in the city to make a difference with the rubble hauling. I was moving enough to fill dozens of pickup trucks in minutes, the coordination needed to make those logistically feasible just didn't exist right now. Faster to just move the rubble a bit farther down the road, at least until we'd cleared enough space to start filling it back up. It got to the point where we were clearing a whole building's worth or rubble in a few minutes, and there'd only been a few blocks where buildings had actually been destroyed, rather than damaged.

Never let it be said that the endbringers weren't destructive, but of the three, the Simurgh usually left the fewest destroyed buildings behind. Who cares about destroying homes or businesses when she destroyed your minds? She was the Hopekiller, after all.

I'd known they were there, but the first visible sign of the Empire capes were the Valkyrie twins. They were at full size, something like ten to twelve meters tall. It was hard to tell with one of them leaning over, and the other crawling, using their height to reach over and into the rubble like living cranes. Rune was levitating large chunks of rubble away, but mostly using that original blade they'd flown in on like a giant backhoe. All three of them kept checking with Cricket, I guessed something about her powers let her detect people like I could. Kaiser was mostly just standing around being visible, occasionally using thick 'blades' that were too wide to properly cut anything to lift and shift larger pieces of rubble. I didn't see any of the others, but I had to assume Othala had gone to heal, and Victor might be with her.

They all stopped to back away and watch as me and my crew rolled through, doing more work in minutes than they'd managed in the couple hours since we'd gotten here. They were all wary, which made me feel good. There were other emotions, but the outlier was Rune. After she'd felt wary and confused while she watched me work, she started to feel... pride? And... hope? I had no idea what to make of it, and put it out of my mind, concentrating on my work.

It only took another half an hour or so to finish sifting through the destroyed buildings, about twenty minutes after my armband let out an 'it is now 5AM EST' courtesy notification. Everyone was happy at our progress, but the celebration was short lived and I'd shied away from it anyway. There were still damaged buildings elsewhere, and while most of the city still had power, there were sections that needed repairs to bring the lights back on. Almost as soon as we were done, I'd started making my way back to where we'd been dropped off. When I got to the lake I hopped in, making another ice board and surfing across, though much slower than the first time.

I pressed the top button on my armband. "This is Terraform. Armsmaster said he wanted me for something?"

A couple seconds later, the armband dinged. "Please proceed to the marker on the map, Terraform." The pleasant female voice requested. I looked at the little screen, where there was a map grid, and a little arrow pointing to a point not currently on the mostly-blank grid. I turned the thing, and the arrow moved after it took a moment to update itself. I suppose I was in the middle of a lake, there wouldn't be much in the way of additional landmarks...

"That is kinda' neat, though." I muttered, and sped up in the direction indicated.

As I got closer to the waypoint, I began to notice that not all of the lights I saw were from the streetlights or the floodlamps. Tiny, abnormally bright lights dotted the shore as well, resolving themselves into welding torches as I neared the lakefront. I hopped off my iceboard and took in the scene. There were tanks large and small everywhere on the quay, a good chunk of them that weren't made to hold water at all. Some of those were in the process of being scrubbed out with all manner of tools and rinsed with lakewater, whatever they had to do to remove whatever had been in there previously. The welding torches I'd seen were busy working away at making new 'tanks', boxy things that didn't look fit to store water at all, from the outside, at least. From the snapshots I was getting of the process, it looked like they were welding together plates of thin sheet metal, reinforcing the edges, and then adding in another layer of metal, before... filling the gap with containment foam? I didn't know how sturdy the stuff was when it'd set, but these were big boxes, a couple meters to a side. That was a lot of water, when full. Maybe I'd been underestimating the stuff?

"Hey, uh..." I was about to ask after Armsmaster, but it dawned on me that all of these people were gathered up here waiting on me, working and building and cleaning, all on my word I could do something and Armsmaster's that I wasn't wrong. That, and I could feel him kneeling inside one of the partially constructed boxtanks. My throat constricted, mouth suddenly dry, and I forced myself to swallow to try and regain my ability to speak. It suddenly felt very warm in my coat. I didn't know he'd be working on this personally! "Armsmaster?" Try as I might, I failed to keep a slight stutter out of the name.

He popped up, catching sight of me and nodding. "Terraform, good." He knelt back down to finish what he was doing, and I plodded around to stand nearby. Five seconds later he was done, standing up and calling someone over, handing the improbably small welding torch off to a man in a stripped-down trooper outfit, without the helmet, armor, or weapons. Then he turned back to me. "We'll have you start over here." He pointed and turned, assuming I'd follow.

Naturally, I did. He led me to one end, and told me to fill up the first of the big tanks. I lifted a thick stream of water into the air and had it spiral into a screw shape, then started forcing all the not-water out of the stream, to splash back into the lake. The remaining clean water flowed into the tank, and I guessed we were getting a few gallons of water every second. "I... wasn't expecting you to handle this yourself." I said, trying to strike up conversation when I had the flow steady. It was just a matter of continuing the motions and maintaining it, now. "Is this really going to help that much?"

He frowned, and I felt a flare of indignation. "Yes, it is." He shook his head and sighed, his emotions evening out again. "The city is without water, and may be for some time." He waved his hand at the tank. "Every hundred gallons is another family that will feel less like rioting in a week. It means we can more easily prioritize shipping in food and medicine. Fixing the water supply is our highest priority, after the basic fencing, even higher than the permanent walls." I'd been trying to ignore that part. Everyone here, at least everyone who lived here, was going to be trapped. Walled in, and left here. I still wasn't sure how I felt about that. "...high priority doesn't mean quick or easy solutions, though."

"Right. Yeah." I muttered, not really sure what to say. I felt like, for all I'd done, it hadn't been enough. But I was tired, and wasn't sure what else I could do. I was only one person, I couldn't fix everything. This would have to be enough. "Hey... thanks. For setting this up."

He was quiet, lost in thought for a few seconds, before he nodded. "It's fine." He paused again. "I've been working under the assumption that you'd want to head home, either for school or to sleep. There will be transport back to Brockton, in about an hour. Education is important, and not being missing after an attack helps preserve civilian identities. I won't stop you if you want to stay, though. I'm going to keep working here until you're done, then I'll be joining the engineers, fixing or bypassing the water relay station."

No pressure, huh? I shook my head, switching the stream from one tank to the next. I could already tell I was going to be filling these up faster than they could make them. Eventually there'd be a bottleneck. I could give it an hour, and see how I felt. Between the lack of sleep and all the effort from earlier, I was ready for a break... and I wasn't sure I'd want to come back. "I think... I'd like to go home then, yes."

I expected him to feel disappointed, but he just nodded. "I'll let them know." He turned, but hesitated, pausing to watch me. I was still swirling my arms, twisting slightly and swaying on my knees, to keep the water flowing efficiently. "That's going to get monotonous. I'll see if someone can find you a radio." He nodded to himself and headed back to the welding teams. Rather than dwelling on it, I decided to see if I could increase the flow a bit.

A few minutes later, when I was nearly done with the third tank, one of the agents running gofer tasks set one of those large portable radios down nearby, tuned to some rock station or another. I wasn't sure how I felt about the special treatment, but it helped to think it was probably boosting morale for the rest of the crews, too.

In the end, I wound up filling all the tanks in less than an hour. The rest of the time was spent washing out refurbished tanks and filling them with water, and waiting for the crews to finish up the last makeshift tanks they were working on, and filling those, too.

It felt really sketchy, flushing out those sewage pump trucks for drinking water... but those things had thousand gallon tanks attached to easily mobile trucks. Emergencies will, as emergencies do, I supposed.

When we were done, one of the guys who'd been in the welding crews did some math in his head, and guessed we'd stored up something like thirty thousand gallons of water. Apparently those big boxy tanks were about a thousand each, and they'd made twenty-two of them. Three trucks with thousand-gallon tanks, a couple more with half that, and a smattering of barrels and other tanks made up the difference.

The radio had only helped so much, after an hour. I hadn't actually had a rest since I'd gotten here, though the effort involved in the waterbending was much less than the earthbending before it, It wasn't nothing. I was tired, hungry, irritable... at least I wasn't bored anymore. Armsmaster had left before I was finished filling up the tanks, but I'd have more chances to thank him again around Brockton. As it was, I was down to filling little tanks and huge jugs when the notice that the teleport to Brockton Bay was coming up came over my armband. The crews and I danced around thanking each other for a minute or so before I left to follow the little arrow on the armband.

I wasn't in a hurry, and was thus unsurprised when I was the last to show up. Kid Win and Shielder looked and felt like shit. They definitely needed a break, and I wouldn't be surprised if they flat-out skipped school today. Rune wasn't faring much better, but perked up when she saw me. I still had no idea how to feel about that, but luckily she was standing off to the side away from the heroes again, so I could keep my distance. Amy was tired, but otherwise seemed fine, while Vicky was putting up a brave face, even though today was weighing her down much like the others.

The thought of standing around in silence was entirely unappealing, however. "Hey, how is everyone?"

Amy shrugged, and the boys groaned. Rune felt like she wanted to speak up, but hesitated. "Oh, I'm fine." Vicky lied, chuckling and forcing a smile. "How are you? We heard you've been busy!"

Oh geez, they heard about all that? I mean, I knew getting my name out there was a good thing, but I didn't want to be involved in the inevitable gossip! "Er, yeah. Kinda?" I demurred.

"Own it, new girl! You did good." She failed to bite back a yawn, but her mood was infectious, picking up everyone's spirit slightly. "Just wish we didn't have to go to school..."

"They don't let you have the day off?" I asked. Everyone's armbands chirped simultaneously, informing us it was 7AM back home, but we mostly ignored it.

Vicky shrugged. "Parents gonna' parents."

I turned to Amy, who looked about ready to fall over. "Are you going to be okay?"

She huffed, irritably. "I don't want the day off. It's bad enough I'm going to be sleeping through my hospital hours, I don't want to skip school, too." She rubbed her face and shook her head, muttering about coffee. "Going to see if I can head in to the hospital before school, tomorrow."

I wasn't sure that was healthy, but I wasn't going to tell her not to help people if it made her feel better. Had to see if she'd take this weekend off from healing, though. After another minute or so waiting, we heard a loud, weirdly resonant whine, before an obvious tinker appeared a few meters away.

He fiddled with the bulky device he was holding, then checked a tablet computer that'd been hanging from a line attached to his suit. "11PM to... Brockton Bay?" He called out, glancing around.

I waved him over, and he cheered. There were two steriotypes for Tinkers. The Armsmasters; athletic, action-oriented combat Tinkers in their sleek armor, with their powerful weapons... the other one fit this guy perfectly. He was a dumpy looking fellow, thick limbs and heavy gut covered in a safety-orange jumpsuit half-covered in sown-in gadgets, tech boxes, and control boards, and festooned with lanyards dangling various tools so they'd always be at hand. It made him look dorky and harmless.

Which I guess was kind of the point.

We could see him grin, as he waved and waddled over. His overbuilt sci-fi goggles only covered his eyes and most of his nose, along with the tops of his cheeks. "Hey, there! I'm Sonic. This everyone?" He glanced around as we nodded and hummed affirmatives, checking his tablet again. "Alright, then. We'll be making a few jumps to get where you're going. Let me know if you need a sec, my tech makes some people queasy after a jump or two."

He checked the tablet again, grabbing the device he'd been holding when he appeared and fiddling with it. He started muttering coordinates, checking back and forth, which wasn't entirely reassuring, but I hadn't thought he was lying about anything he'd said. "Gather up." He said, and when we were all almost touching, even Rune, he prodded the device. It hummed, picking up in pitch and volume until it was nearly a painful shriek in our ears. The world went fuzzy, disassembling around us as my sense of balance cut out. Then everything snapped back to normal, and we were standing in a well-lit empty room.

I stumbled away, leaning over and trying to catch my breath. I'd never been motion sick before, but I imagine this is what it must be like. My senses spread out, and I could tell we were in a city, in a fairly well staffed and maintained building... a PRT building? My senses spread further, and I got the feeling we were on a huge island. I clenched my eyes shut while the others hovered nearby, asking if I was okay. It looked like... New Zealand?

I shook my head and straightened up. "I'm fine. I'll be fine."

Sonic shook his head, and I could feel him rolling his eyes at my bravado. "Okay." He fiddled with his teleporter again, taking another twenty seconds or so before he called us around again.

It still hit me hard, but I handled it better this time. We'd landed in Hawaii, this time. Half a minute later we'd jumped again, to somewhere in California. I bit down the bile threatening to escape. One last jump and we found ourselves back in the lobby of Brockton's PRT building. I clasped my hand over my mouth, staggering back and leaning over. Amy rushed to my side, slipping her hand onto the back of my neck, and I felt my stomach settle itself.

"Thanks." I choked out.

"I warned ya'." Sonic chuckled, and I shot him a glare. "I'm gonna leave, before she gets mad at me." He was still chuckling, even as he stepped away and fiddled with his machine. The hum built to the shriek again, and he was gone.

Kid Win hobbled off further into the PRT building, while Shielder found a chair to slump into. Vicky was fussing over Amy nearby, while I just stood there catching my breath. The lobby was empty, and I had to wonder if that was because it was early, or if they kept it closed to the public on days like today. Rune hadn't moved much since we arrived, and seemed to be working herself up. She stepped closer, and I turned to face her. She looked young. Younger than the rest of us, all smooth cheeks and pouty lips, with her mask covering the rest. A few tufts of hair had worked their way free, dangling around her neck from within her hood. I was surprised they weren't blonde, instead a mix of eye-catching Empire red and an otherwise rather charming violet. "Uh, hey." She said, trying to sound stronger than she felt. "I, uh." Her eyes caught Amy silently glaring, and Vicky looking about ready to snap at her. She sighed. "Never mind." She turned and walked away, shaking her head and huffing out another sigh. By the time she'd made it out the door, she'd worked herself back up to feeling tired, but determined.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I don't know what's up with her."

"Probably looking to recruit you." Vicky said in a dark tone, prompting me to turn and face them instead of watching the door. "You need to be careful about that."

I glanced at Amy and chuckled. "I don't think I need to worry so much, I'm tougher than I look, and I'm making my own team." I turned back to Vicky and smiled, hoping it came through in my voice. "I'll be fine."

"So," Amy broke in, changing the subject. "anyone want me to flush their toxins, so you're less tired?"

"GOD, YES." Shielder roared from the other end of the room. I wasn't aware it was possible to zombie-shuffle through the air until I saw him floating over to his cousins. Vicky giggled and Amy let out a long-suffering sigh, so I guessed this was pretty typical for him. Amy laid hands on, and he perked up. "Thanks, Amy. You're the best." He floated away humming that coffee jingle, and Amy groaned loudly. Vicky just giggled harder.

"I'm doing you last." She told her sister, causing the blonde to pout. She turned to me and I shook her hand, feeling a lot of the weariness bleed away. It wasn't all gone, but it felt more like I hadn't slept well, rather than spent four hours hard at work after a third my usual night's sleep.

"Thank you." I said, waiting as Amy poked her sister in the nose and 'piggy-faced' her, while Vicky whined and had to put up with it to get her healing. When they were done, Amy grinning smugly while Vicky pouted harder, I asked, "Are you going to be okay?"

Amy shrugged. "I've had worse. Just need to fix my coffee-blood levels, and I'll be fine."

I wasn't so sure, she felt weary, like she wasn't quite sure, but I had hope she'd pull through the day. I chuckled at her joke, at any rate. I nodded to the door, and we started walking, Vicky floating behind us until we got closer, when she sped up to get the door for us. It felt nice, walking down the steps in that comfortable silence. Amy smiled as she trailed behind us, glancing between us. Vicky was in pretty good spirits too, turning and kneeling, offering her arms. "M'laaady." She hummed.

Amy climbed in, chuckling as Vicky lifted off. She raised her fist into the air and cheered "For Coffee!" before the two started accelerating off, laughing.

I smirked, shaking my head. Yeah, we really needed that, after Canberra. I started jogging for home, picking up speed until I was sprinting. I didn't have any clothes on under my costume, so I didn't bother stopping to change. Instead I looped around and waited until no one was looking, before sneaking into the back yard. I made my way inside and found dad nursing coffee, waiting up. He startled at first, until I took my mask off. Then we hugged, he told me I looked good, and he wandered upstairs to pass out.

It wasn't too strange to call in to work on Endbringer days. Some places even expected it, and he could always make the work up on the weekend. I wasn't too worried.

I popped some leftovers in the microwave and went upstairs to change into some running clothes. I might as well keep up my jogging, right? I prepped my backpack with a change of clothes for school, then headed down to eat my food. I was still tired, but caffeine fixes that well enough. Thinking back to earlier, I chuckled and nodded to myself. Amy would probably appreciate more coffee, regardless of how much she'd already gotten.

That decided, I grabbed up my stuff and stretched before headed out. Instead of school, I made a detour, heading for a coffee place near Arcadia. When I got there, I slowed down, taking in the slow morning bustle with my senses. People were flocking to the shops and not bothering to stay, having places to be. There was a girl leaning against her car in front of the shop, a pretty blonde, probably waiting on her boyfriend. I eyed her up and down as I got closer. A very pretty blonde, who definitely had a boyfriend. I caught her bright bottle-green eyes as mine drifted back up, and she smiled at me. I blushed at having been caught looking, and glanced away. When I was about to pass her to get into the shop, she stopped me.

"Hey," She called, pushing off her car and stalking up to me. "I'm Lisa." She lied, smiling brightly.

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Threadmarks Interlude 3 (Lisa) New

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Dalxein

Dalxein

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Feb 24, 2020

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#305

I should preface this by saying I tweaked Lisa's power. It works mostly the same as canon, with one major difference.

Given I've based a significant portion of shards and their interactions on Mauling Snarks and Taylor Varga, it makes sense for shards to communicate like a computer network, most of the information being sent to a hub, which sends the information on, either to the recipient, or to another hub that can get it closer. These messages happen incredibly fast, but can be bypassed if there's a connection to them near their host, say- another host. This is how QA was talking to Shaper, beaming data through Taylor, into Amy, to Shaper. There are, however, communications nodes. Negotiator is one of them. It has its own processing suite, but its primary power is the ability to query any other shard, whenever it wants, process the data, and feed it to its host. Its canon name (from GU) then makes a bit more sense, it helps to hang the way shards work together a bit better, and it gives Lisa the quirky reaction that makes Terraform something to investigate ASAP, when seen.

The big change? Her power can just ask someone else's power how they work. Usually they get it. Cauldron shards are a tad fussier, and some of them have functions that give them a reason not to tell.

THU FEB 24

Lisa hated her boss.

This wasn't a particularly uncommon trait, especially considering her status as a pretty white teenaged girl from a fairly wealthy family, stuck in her very first job which she didn't want, having been forced on her by someone with authority over her life because they thought they knew better.

She snorted to herself. Yeah, there were ways to spin anything, if you knew how.

So here she was, staking out the PRT building almost six hours after she'd gotten here in the middle of the night, because the boss that'd recruited her at gunpoint called her up after she'd been woken up by the fucking Endbringer sirens, and told her to.

At least the coffee around here was pretty good, and she was relatively fresh power-wise. It'd been a slow day yesterday, and she'd kept a tight lid on it ever since the new girl had shown up. Fancy new most-of-a-costume straight from Parian, and all. Ostensibly Lisa was there to watch for the Empire's capes, and throw her Thinker power at them until she figured out the last couple identities she hadn't found, yet.

She had no intention of doing that, now.

Parahuman. Has no powers.

She'd nearly given herself a headache trying to figure that one out. It wasn't until she'd clamped down on her power that she realized it was the problem. Somehow the new girl, Terraform, had some sort of partial anti-Thinker power. Lisa could still read the girl just fine, but trying to get anything on her powers got that weird, impossible answer.

Of course she had powers. Lisa'd seen her file, had watched the girl come dashing in on an insane supernatural tailwind. The girl had powers.

But if her power didn't work right for some reason, how would Coil's power react to her? The thought made her grin every time it came to mind. She'd have to find some way to pit the two against each other. Arrange it so the new girl came out on top.

She was sipping her latte espresso when the door to the PRT building opened.

Parahuman. Rune. Cassandra Herren. Touch-based Telekinesis. Control diminishes with increased number of objects. Weight limit per object, not total controlled mass.

Lisa rolled her eyes. The Herren trio hadn't taken ten minutes to figure out, and Coil had already known their names when she'd given her first report on their capes. It'd been part of a test, to prove whether she'd really give him a cape's real name.

Is determined. Is emotionally tired. Is physically tired. Is alone. Likes being alone. Wants to be left alone. Determined. Frustrated. Angry. Not happy with her group. Not happy with the Empire. Wants to leave the Empire.

Oh-ho, now that was interesting. She briefly considered trying to recruit the girl, before second-guessing the thought. Even renouncing her Nazi gang, she's still a bigot. She'd never take orders from Brian after finding out he's black.

Determined. Wants to leave the Empire. Thinks she has a way to leave the Empire.

Ahh, oh well. Lisa clamped down on her power again as she watched Rune make her way down the street. Either it had something to do with Terraform or her team, or it probably involved leaving the city. She didn't need to waste her power on that.

The important thing was that Rune being here meant the kiddy ride to get back before school was here, which meant she should be here. About a minute later, Shielder came out and flew away. She almost let her power slip, until she'd noticed he was alone. Nothing useful to learn, there.

Then the door opened again.

Bingo.

Parahuman. Forcefield. Aura. Flight. Forcefield grants additional powers. Forcefield grants flight. Forcefield grants Brute strength. Aura radiates Master effect. Forcefield grants 'Alexandria package'. Forcefield temporary. Forcefield can be removed. Forcefield grants transient invulnerability. Flight not restricted to forcefield. Multiple sources of flight powers. Stressed. Relieving stress. Happy. Spending time with sister. Spending time with a friend. Likes her sister. Likes Terraform. Considers Terraform a friend. Enjoys their company. Emotionally tired. Relieving emotional stress socially.

Lisa ripped her power's focus away. She didn't need to hyperanalyze Glory Girl, she needed information on Terraform. Lucky her, that's who came through the door next.

Parahuman. No powers. Costume anachronistic. Costume incomplete. Costume stitching matches Parian's work. Mask hand-painted. Mask based on Eidolon. Costume incomplete. Sleeve hems lower quality. Intended to be hidden. Intended to be hidden by gloves. Pant hems lower quality. Intended to be hidden. Intended to be hidden by boots. Shoes are not boots. Shoes are low quality. Shoes are damaged. Shoes intentionally damaged and reconstructed. Shoes intentionally lower quality. Costume new. Costume expensive. Shoes inexpensive. Shoes intentionally inexpensive. Contradiction implies significant financial prioritization. Is financially middle-class. Is stressed. Has trust issues. Is relieving stress. Is emotionally exhausted. Is relieving stress socially. Has trust issues. Is physically tired. Considers Glory Girl a friend. Considers Panacea a friend. Enjoys their company. Has trust issues. Trusts Panacea. Trusts Glory girl. Enjoys having friends. Not used to having friends. Not used to socializing. Not used to enjoying company. Has trust issues. Recent trauma involving trust issues. Recent trauma involving other people. Recent trauma regarding social isolation. Recent trauma is trigger event. Trigger event involved former friends. Trigger event involved former trusted friends.

Hmm... the only big trigger-like event she'd heard about recently was-

Is Locker Girl. Is Taylor Hebert.

Gotcha.

Just to round out the set, Lisa turned her power on Panacea.

Parahuman. Healer. Physically exhausted. Mentally exhausted. Stressed, Relieving stress socially. Relieving stress with friends. Likes her sister. Likes Terraform. Enjoys their company. Close to her sister. Loves her sister. Is not straight. Is sexually attracted to her sister. Is romantically attracted to her sister.

Her eyes widened. That… was way too much information. Potentially dangerous information. Then Panacea turned her eyes from her sister, onto Terraform.

Is sexually attracted to Terraform. Is romantically attracted to Terraform. Is comfortable around Terraform. Trusts Terraform. Knows Terraform is Taylor Hebert. Is attracted to Taylor. Is pursuing Taylor romantically. Is comfortable pursuing Taylor romantically. Taylor knows she isn't straight. Taylor is comfortable with her not being straight.

Lisa hadn't been expecting suddenly lesbians today, but it's not the weirdest thing she'd seen this week. She watched Glory girl turn and kneel, Panacea climbing into her arms.

Is exhausted. Is sexually attracted to her sister. Likes being held by her sister. Inhibitions lowered by exhaustion. Is fantasizing about her sister. Wants to kiss her sister. Wants to have sex with her sister.

She rolled her eyes and waited for them to lift off.

Is going to get coffee. Is going to get coffee somewhere else. Is going to get coffee at a place Glory Girl likes. A fancy coffee shop 1.3 Kilometers south on the Boardwalk, Glory Girl's favorite coffee shop.

No danger being discovered by them for sitting in front of this coffee shop, then. Good. She turned her attention back to Terraform.

Wistful. Enjoys having friends again. Likes friends. Wants friends. Has trust issues. Trust issues prevent friendships. Wants to preserve existing friendships. Wants to do something nice for her friend. Considers Amy Dallon her best friend. Is going to do something nice for her best friend. Is going to go home. Best friend exhausted. Best friend desires caffeine. Is going to get coffee for her best friend. Is going to go home and change clothes first. Is tired. Is not exercising proper vigilance because she is tired. Is going to go straight home. Is not going to obfuscate direction of home. Is middle class. Lives in a middle-class suburb.

And with that, she knew roughly where Taylor lived, and which coffee shop she'd have to go out of her way the least to stop at on the way to school. She watched the girl speed out of sight, finished her drink, and got into her car. She'd have to hurry if she wanted to find a good parking spot before Taylor got there. Trying to talk to her in the coffee shop was a non-starter. The morning after the Endbringer alarms went off? Literally everyone was going to need coffee today. Best to pounce outside, and hope she could convince Taylor to talk to her somewhere more private. Knowing how fast Taylor could be, she almost started to worry that she'd picked wrong, when the girl came jogging around the corner.

Parahuman. No powers. Jogging. Exercising. Hasn't showered. Knew she'd be sweaty again. Clothes mismatched. Doesn't care about fashion. Chooses clothing based on cost. Lower-middle-class. Money potential point of leverage. Cares about fashion. Doesn't want to care about fashion. Intending to shower at school. Intending to make it to class on time. Lines longer than she's expecting. Isn't going to make it to class on time. Isn't going to make it to class on time without skipping shower.

Bummer for her, she was going to be late even if Lisa didn't try to talk to her. She waited for her to get closer, and that was when Lisa caught Taylor's eye.

Thinks you're pretty. Thinks you're prettier than her. Is sexually attracted to you. Has trust issues. Does not like that she is sexually attracted to you. Does not like that you're prettier than her. Jealous of you for being prettier than her. Does not like not being straight. Is repressing non-straight sexual urges. Thinks she is now straight. Knows she was not always straight. Has experience being in a relationship. Has experience being in a homosexual relationship. Has trust issues. Trust issues linked to prior homosexual relationship. Trust issues linked to former friends. Trust issues linked to trigger event. Trigger event caused by former friend. Trigger event caused by former best friend. Trigger event caused by former girlfriend. Associates non-straight sexual leanings with former girlfriend. Is Locker Girl. Locker Girl's hospitalization involved rotting menstrual blood. Associates menstrual blood with femininity. Associates former girlfriend with personal standard of femininity. Believes trigger event an assault on her femininity. Associates trigger event with non-straight sexual leanings. Has trust issues.

This girl was a fucking mess. Lisa smiled at her anyway, looking away so she wouldn't scare the girl off. She waited until Taylor got closer, for her to start turning into the shop. Then she called out. "Hey!" Taylor turned, and Lisa sashayed up to her. Being pretty had its perks, and she was hoping Taylor's attraction would more than balance out the other stuff. "I'm Lisa." She introduced herself, giving her widest and brightest smile.

Thinks you're lying. Confident you're lying. Knows Lisa isn't your name.

Fuck.

Doesn't like you. Doesn't trust you. Thinks you're lying. Hates liars. Has trust issues.

Double fuck. Taylor either had some sort of Thinker power of her own, or she was way too paranoid to work with. She was hoping for that first one, but needed to nip this mistrust in the bud now. "Okay, you got me. My name's actually Sarah." She was a little worried, trying to sound contrite, and giving a wry smirk instead of her grin.

Thinks you're lying. Confused. Doesn't know why you're lying. Doesn't know Sarah is your real name. Wary of you.

Wait, what? Lisa shook herself slightly, throwing off the shock. She needed to roll with the punches, this was weird, but she could handle it. "Alright, alright." She held her hands up to give herself another second. "The name on my actual birth certificate is Sarah. Does that make your lie detector happy, yet?"

Lisa didn't even need her power to know she'd just fucked up. The snarl on Taylor's face said it all.

Doesn't like you knowing about that. Doesn't want anyone to know about that. Doesn't have powers. Doesn't like you. Doesn't trust you. Knows you're a parahuman. Knows you know she's a parahuman. Doesn't like you knowing that she's a parahuman. Thinks you're threatening her. Thinks you're outing her. Thinks you're breaking the Rules. Looking for a private place. Wants to take you to a private place. Wants to threaten you.

Taylor had glanced about very briefly, before grabbing Lisa's hand and dragging her into the nearest alley. There were a couple passersby who caught sight of them, and surreptitiously checked to see if the two girls were running off to do something naughty together. These people lost their interest when they found Lisa bodily hoisted by her coat and pinned to the wall by an angry amazon of a girl.

Stronger than you. Is a Parahuman. Is a Brute. Has no powers. Not afraid of you. Not wary of you. Angry with you. Not worried about your powers. Thinks she can handle your powers. Not afraid of physical confrontation with an unknown parahuman. Confident in her strength. Confident in her durability. Is a Brute. Has no powers.

Lisa winced as that contradiction kept snapping back and forth in her head. Her power was really not happy with it. She tried to pull it away from the physical confrontation, and all thoughts of powers, regardless of whether Taylor had any.

Doesn't trust you. Doesn't like you knowing her secrets. Has trust issues. Is angry with you. You remind her of someone. Doesn't like that you remind her of someone. Does not like the person you remind her of. Doesn't like you. Has had secrets used against her before. You remind her of someone who has used secrets against her before. You remind her of someone she hates. You remind her of someone who betrayed her. You remind her of her former best friend. You remind her of her former lover.

Oh god, she was going to die. Her gun was in her purse, which was in her car. "Truce! Truce!" She snapped out, desperately.

Is calming down. Is forcing herself to calm down. Is forcing herself to think rationally. Does not want to break the truce. Thinks you are threatening her civilian identity. Thinks you are breaking the truce. Does not consider you a physical threat. Knows you are afraid. Knows you know she's stronger than you. Wary of you. Pities you.

Lisa slid down the wall as Taylor set her back on her shaky legs. "Explain." Taylor growled. Lisa nodded, taking the time to breathe deeply and let her power work.

Doesn't like you. Doesn't trust you. Doesn't want to like you. Doesn't want to hurt you. Looking for a reason not to hurt you. Doesn't like violence. Not a violent person. Pities you. Thinks you might need help. Likes helping people. Has a hero complex. Trigger left her helpless. Feels she needs to help people. Trigger left her feeling trapped. Compulsive need to save others.

"I need help." She really hoped this wasn't going to come back to bite her.

"Seems like a stupid way to ask for help." Taylor groused, letting go of Lisa's jacket and dropping her hands to her side. She didn't move away, though.

Thinks you followed her. Thinks you're stalking her. Has experience being stalked. Doesn't like being stalked. Is tired. Is irritable. Stance intentional. Martial stance. Ready stance. Hand fisted. Arm tense. Ready to debilitate you if you threaten her. Ready to knock you unconscious if you threaten her. Doesn't like violence. You remind her of the girl who caused her trigger. Wants to punch the girl who caused her trigger. Wants to punch you. Doesn't like violence. Wants to punch you anyway.

That was an incredibly unhelpful rabbit hole her power was running down. "Did you know I would be here?" Taylor asked. "Are you stalking me or something?" Lisa refocused her power, giving herself a moment by slowly smoothing out her jacket. Taylor's eyes followed her hands.

Wants to help you. Looking for an excuse to help you. Doesn't consider you a threat. Knows you don't have any weapons. Knows people who don't need weapons. Knows members of New Wave. Remembering Blasters from New Wave. Knows you don't have weapons. Watching your hands anyway. Likes your curves. Is sexually attracted to you. Enjoys having an excuse to look at your body. Rationalizing her reason for looking at your body. Wants an excuse to touch you.

Another dud. "I need help." She kept it vague while she wrangled her power again. "I'm a Thinker."

"Kinda' figured." Taylor deadpanned. "And?"

Looking for a reason to help you. Wants to help you. Is a hero. Wants to be heroic. Has a team. Has a hero team. Is recruiting for her hero team. Is attracted to you. Wants a reason to stay near you. Wants to recruit you. Isn't trying to recruit you. Wants you to be independent. Doesn't expect you to be independent. Thinks you might be a villain. Doesn't want to recruit villains. Wants you to not be a villain. Wants you to be a hero. Willing to recruit heroes. Wants to help you. Doesn't trust you.

She could work with this. "And, Thinkers are a hot commodity. Villains will do anything to recruit a Thinker, even put a gun to their head and say 'you're working for me now, or else'." As long as she stuck to the truth, she should be fine. Usually she embellished, threw in half-truths and assumptions, but without her power to tell her how Terraform's powers worked, she had to assume that was a bad move. Thinkers were so annoying. "Like my boss did, to me."

Wants to help you. Feels protective of you. Has a hero complex. Wants to save you. Doesn't trust you. Doesn't think you're lying. Knows you're a villain. Willing to help unwilling villains. Wants to save you.

The tension kept bleeding away from Taylor as she listened. "And what do you expect me to do about that?" She thought for a moment. "You're not Empire, you're not Asian, you're not a Merchant... I don't know who your boss is. If I haven't heard of him, why should I have to deal with him?"

Doesn't like the gangs. Knows the Empire would flaunt you if you were a member. Hasn't heard of a female Thinker in the Empire. Knows you're not a member of the Empire. Knows you're not a member of the gangs. Doesn't want to go out of her way to fight the gangs. Doesn't like violence. Likes dominance. Control freak. Likes showing dominance without violence. Likes showing dominance with minimal violence. Likes being in charge. Likes being in control. Likes showing that she's strong. Wants to show she's strong. Wants to help you. Wants to catch your boss to prove she's strong.

Checkmate. "His name is Coil. He's a Thinker, a mastermind Bond-villain type. Controls things from the shadows, hiring mercenaries and arming them with tinkertech, hiring villains as patsies he can pretend aren't connected to him, and 'hiring' people like me, who don't have a choice, or don't have a good option." There. Everything true, and hopefully none of it was too repulsive to Terraform's overinflated sense of heroism.

Doesn't believe you. Doesn't think you're lying. Isn't sure she believes you. Thinks you think you're not lying. Hasn't heard of Coil. Doesn't think someone like Coil is realistic.

Taylor's lips pursed as she thought. "And what happens to you if you don't have a boss anymore?"

Lisa smirked and shrugged. "I get to start making my own choices again. I was a relatively harmless pickpocket when he grabbed me, not a lawful person, but not a villain, either." Be honest. Give Taylor something to chew on as her 'bad side' so she thinks that's as bad as Lisa could get on her own. Telling others your flaws engenders trust. It was just basic psychology. "I doubt I'd go back to that, but I'd prefer to be a rogue or something." Can't lie and say she'd stop being a villain. She'd switch sides if the situation called for it, but didn't actually believe it was possible anymore, and she didn't know if Taylor's powers would pick up on that. "I could be convinced to go hero, in the right situation." Technically true. The best kind of true. Her grin faded. Now to ease into the real problem. "I don't think my team could make the switch, though."

"Your team?" Taylor prompted, warily.

Hasn't heard of your team. Doesn't think you have a team. Doesn't think you're lying. Confused. Doesn't know why she hasn't heard of your team. Doesn't want to believe she could have missed a villain team.

"We're pretty small-time." Lisa conceded. "Just thefts, some corporate espionage, a few runs against some gang holdings... we don't really want to be villains." Lisa didn't add that, as a whole, the Undersiders probably wanted to be heroes less than they wanted to be villains.

Doesn't believe you. Doesn't think you're lying. Knows you know not to lie. Knows you're smart enough to trick her. Doesn't trust you. Doesn't like you.

Taylor shook her head. "I'm gonna need more than that. Why can't you go to the PRT, or New Wave? Why me?" She leaned in, glaring harder. "And what about your team? You'd just run if you thought you could get away, or if you didn't care about them. What happens to them when their boss is gone?"

Angry. Tired. Rambling because she's tired. Knows she isn't thinking clearly. Doesn't like that she isn't thinking clearly. Knows you know she's tired. Knows you planned this meeting. Thinks you've been stalking her. Thinks you've been planning this meeting for days. Thinks you might have been planning this meeting for weeks. Knows she's tired. Knows she's not thinking clearly. Thinks you knew she'd be tired. Thinks you intended to confront her when she wasn't thinking clearly. Doesn't know how your powers work. Assuming worst-case scenario. Assuming she has no secrets from you. Assuming you are manipulating her. Feels violated. Hates not having control of her secrets. Hates being manipulated. Dislikes your power. Dislikes Thinker powers. Doesn't trust you. Doesn't know your team. Dislikes not knowing your team. Dislikes not knowing your teammates. Doesn't like villains. Doesn't trust villains. Dislikes that you might betray your team. Has history with betrayal. Dislikes traitors. Doesn't want to enable villains. Doesn't want to be tricked into enabling villains.

Lisa hadn't anticipated being overestimated to be such a minefield in this conversation. Taylor had taken her spur-of-the-moment gambit and assumed it was the work of a master manipulator with weeks of planning and preparation. She swallowed thickly, and even though she knew it would have made the situation so much worse to have, she still dearly missed her gun. Best to just go down the list, for now. "He has moles in the PRT, I wouldn't be safe there. New Wave either wouldn't help a villain, or would make me out myself joining up." She really hoped she didn't have to go into detail why that would be bad, given her parents. "The team would either fall apart... or keep doing its thing with fewer resources and less funding, making them easier for heroes to catch." She shrugged. "We're called the Undersiders. I can't tell you any more without breaking the Unwritten Rules. You know what those are, right?" Lisa hoped Taylor would take the hint and drop it.

Not surprised. Expected those answers. Has experience with espionage. Knew the PRT could be compromised. Didn't know the PRT was already compromised. Now has confirmation the PRT is compromised. Has spoken to New Wave. Doesn't want to be outed. Forming her own team as an alternative to New Wave. Forming her own team as an alternative to the Protectorate.

"The rules are bullshit." Taylor drolled with a shrug.

Doesn't believe in the Rules. Wants to believe in the Rules. Doesn't think they work. Knows you broke the Rules. Thinks you don't believe in the Rules. Thinks you are using the Rules. Thinks you are hiding behind the Rules. Doesn't trust you. Doesn't trust you to not break the Rules again. Doesn't trust you to not share her secrets. Wants insurance you won't share her secrets. Wants insurance you won't break the Rules again. Wants leverage. Needs control.

"Usually, whenever someone tells me about the Rules," Taylor continued. "they follow it up with all the reasons they think the Rules don't work. Lung doesn't care. He's too strong for anyone to hold him to the Rules, and he knows it." Taylor fidgeted slightly, before she took a step back and started pacing a couple feet in front of Lisa, making short meter-long circuits to stay close and keep her hemmed in. "The Empire pretend to care about the rules, but we have no guarantees they actually do, and I know they've got people sick enough to try if they thought they could get away with it. I'm not convinced the thing with New Wave wasn't just them fumbling the hit. The Merchants? No one cares about the Merchants. They could be doing anything, and who would even know?" Taylor stopped dead in front of Lisa, her hand snapping up to point in the girl's face. She was already nearly leaning on the wall, which led to her skull bouncing lightly but painfully off the hard stone, blonde hairs catching on the old, aesthetically rugged brickwork. "The worst part about the Rules is it's not an even split who has what say in them." Her hand dropped, and Taylor gripped at her face, smooshing the flesh of her cheeks and screaming internally for a bit, a quiet whining groan escaping her nose. "If the PRT want you gone and can find a good reason for it, they can just have a Kill Order signed, and declare the Rules don't apply to you anymore. If they can't do that, they can just choose not to save you when you're fighting someone like Lung or Hookwolf, or not investigate someone breaking the rules against you in particular." She let her arms drop after that, taking several deep breaths and trying to calm down.

Doesn't believe the Rules work. Wants the Rules to work. Is distressed the Rules don't work. Knows you broke the Rules. Assumes you also believe the Rules don't work. Wants the Rules to work. Wants to be safe in her civilian life. Wants her father to be safe. Wants a way to hide from cape celebrity. Wants her identity to remain a secret. Knows you know her secrets. Wants to know your secrets. Calming down. Meditating. Intentionally altering her emotional state. High degree of mental control or Thinker power. Likes control. Needs control. Trains control. Has no powers. High degree of trained mental and physical control.

Taylor turned to Lisa again, glaring tiredly into her eyes. "And then there's you."

Doesn't trust you. Doesn't trust the Rules. Knows you know her secrets. Wants to know your secrets. Wants control. Wants insurance. Wants mutual secrets. Wants mutual insurance. Needs control. Wants mutual blackmail. Wants mutually assured destruction. Knows you broke the rules. Willing to spread that you broke the rules. Will target you if you spread her secrets. Will intentionally target the Undersiders if you spread her secrets. Will break the Rules to target you if you spread her secrets.

Shit, shit, shit. She just had to jump the shark, didn't she? It was more and more clear to Lisa that getting Terraform to help against Coil would just be trading one boss for another. Coil and Terraform were more alike than they seemed at first, both control freaks who wanted to make the city better, but it was a matter of scale and priorities. Coil wanted to own the city, and then make it better, because it would be his possession he was improving. Why settle for a beat-up pre-Leviathan Subaru you needed to jerry-rig parts for, when you could show off your rebuilt Ferrari instead? Terraform was similar, from the opposite direction. She was a creature of compulsions and obsessions, rather than ambitions. She needed to help people. Needed to save people. Needed control over her personal life, and the things closer to her. It was the saving of people that brought them closer to her, which compelled her to have some level of control over them.

At least Terraform was more likely to care about her wellbeing, making her easily the better choice.

Taylor stepped back into Lisa's personal space, pressing one hand to the wall over her shoulder, while the other hand was flat, fingers curled back at the second knuckles, which were pressed to the middle of her chest. This pressed Lisa more fully against the wall, the hard joints pressing slightly painfully into her sternum. "Now, Sarah, who are you?" Taylor asked, leaning forward and looming over the slightly shorter girl.

Looming. Intimidating. Didn't intend her stance to be intimidating. Intimidation not original purpose. Physical contact original purpose. Physical contact improves lie detection. Realized stance intimidating. Likes that stance is intimidating. Playing up intimidation. Likes being intimidating. Likes having power. Likes using power. Likes having control. Likes exerting control. Does not understand sexual connotations of current stance. Is sexually attracted to you. Likes touching you. Likes dominating you. Would be turned on by sexual connotations of current stance. Would enjoy sexually dominating you. Would hate herself for non-straight sexual leanings. Would enjoy it anyway.

Oh god, this couldn't be happening...

Is a hero. Is heroic. Not willing to sexually assault others. Would require consent. Would not act if given consent. Hates not being straight. Would deny accusations of not being straight. Would be enraged by accusations of not being straight.

...she let out a small sigh of relief, and waited for her power to keep digging.

Looking for an excuse to hurt you for manipulating her. Wants to hurt you. Wants to help you. Knows you need help. Would attempt to help you if she rendered you unconscious. Would turn you over to the PRT if she rendered you unconscious. Would attempt to get PRT aid. Would target Coil. Is underestimating Coil. Would incite retaliation from Coil.

Lisa wanted to buck at the dominance plays, especially after that false rape flag tripped her fight-or-flight responses, redoubling her internal stress. She tamped down the frustration, the indignation at being forced to give up her own secrets, instead of spewing someone else's. Getting angry would just make Taylor violent. Trying to lie would just get her knocked out and dumped on the PRT. She couldn't help the glare she leveled at Taylor, but the taller girl wasn't moved. They kept glaring at each other for nearly a minute, Taylor patiently waiting her out from her position of power. Lisa flinched as the first twinges of a Thinker headache started to creep through her skull.

"My name is... I've been going by Lisa Wilbourn." When Taylor nodded, she continued. "I was born Sarah Livsey." Taylor tilted her head in a 'go on' motion, causing Lisa to scowl, but comply. "I ran away from home after my parents started using me for my power. I don't want to go home. That's why I can't go to New Wave, they'd want me to go public, and my parents would find me. The PRT would be almost as bad if they forced me into the Wards. Their handlers don't care about happy families, just covering their own asses and stomping out custody battles. I'd give even odds they'd send me home anyway and ignore that my parents used my powers illegally before, if it meant they'd keep quiet from now on, as long as my parents signed me into the Wards." Taylor was frowning now, but looking a lot less likely to one-inch-punch her hand the rest of the way into Lisa's chest hard enough to make her pass out. "I started roaming around, picking pockets, using my power to pick targets. Getting by okay. Then Coil's goons grabbed me, and it was join up or die. He keeps my apartment bugged, keeps our base bugged, he knows when I try to leave. Keeps trying to bug my car, but that's a lot harder. He doesn't know I'm here. Doesn't know I'm talking to you." She kept a grip on her power, only letting through a trickle of information instead of the flood that'd rapidly incapacitate her anyway if she kept it up.

"Why me?" Taylor asked.

Lisa scoffed and shook her head. "Because your power keeps telling my power that you don't have powers." She snapped. The poleaxed look on Taylor's face was glorious. "I have no fucking clue how that works, but if it works on me, it might work on him, and that gives you an edge."

Taylor pushed off the wall, stepping away. Lisa rubbed her aching chest, sure there was going to be a bruise there tomorrow. "How long have you been planning this?" She asked incredulously.

"Since this morning." Lisa shrugged. "Boss wanted me to watch the Empire roll up, try to get information on them." Taylor's stare sharpened, quickly realizing the implications. "Yeah, he's kind of a dick. Like you, he hates not having dirt on people." It wasn't as low as her usual blows, but Taylor still snarled at the insult. "Anyway, I was told to wait for them to leave, too. Then you showed up. My power went screwy, and I knew I had to talk to you. So I waited, watched you leave, figured out where you'd be, and here we are." Lisa threw her arms up in a grand gesture, instantly regretting the way it pulled at her new aches. Taylor stared at her hand as she rubbed her chest again.

Wants to help you. Can help you. Doesn't trust you. Hesitating. Doesn't want you to know something. Doesn't trust you to know something.

She stopped her rubbing, staring blankly at Taylor. The girl snarled again, having realized she'd figured out another secret. Terraform was a healer? That... was an absurd amount of versatility in her powers. Lisa held up her hands to ward the girl off. "Won't tell, not telling." Taylor huffed, but accepted it. She muttered something about 'fucking thinkers' that had Lisa grinning. "But yeah, I figured you'd be my best shot at catching him off guard. My own heroic savior." She grinned, knowing Taylor thought her smile was pretty.

Thinks you're pretty. Knows you're manipulating her. Doesn't like that you're manipulating her. Thinks your dimples are cute. Thinks your freckles are cute. Assumes that you're distracting her. Trying to remember what you're distracting her from.

"What about your team? The Undersiders?" Taylor crossed her arms, scowling at her. "What are their stories?"

Isn't going to stop digging. Thinks you want her to stop digging. Thinks you're hiding something. Doesn't care she's breaking the Rules. Rationalizing that you broke the rules first. Doesn't intend to reveal the information. Doesn't intend to reveal the information unless you betray her. Wants to make an informed decision. Wants the Rules to work. Doesn't think the Rules work. Is willing to play by the Rules. Is willing to play by the Rules when she has all of the information. Willing to pay lip service to the Rules. Willing to keep secrets. Willing to keep secrets that don't harm her. Wants to know your secrets. Wants to know your team's secrets. Wants to make an informed decision. Doesn't want to be manipulated. Doesn't want to enable villains.

Lisa cursed silently to herself. How to play this? How to make this work? "Do I-?" Taylor nodded, cutting off her question. Yes, she had to. "...no real names?" She asked. It was a simple compromise, and after a good fifteen seconds of thought, Taylor nodded. "The Undersiders are mostly in it for the money, if you could pay them enough, give them what they're after, they'll stop being villains." That's what Taylor was really after, she knew.

She sighed, and Taylor let her have the time to think. Half a minute later, she started again. "Grue's in charge. He doesn't know who the boss really is- none of them do- but Coil's been hiring him for years through various proxies. When-" She checked again, and sure enough, Taylor still wanted her to spill everything shy of names. "When Coil got the idea for the Undersiders, and offered him a steady job, he took it. He needs it. Needs money and a good work history, so he can take custody of his sister. Her dad doesn't want her, and her mom's a druggy who keeps shacking up with abusive boyfriends."

"Why didn't he just join the Protectorate, or one of the gangs? Or-" Taylor stopped herself, and Lisa could tell she'd wanted to ask 'Or just get a job if he needed one' but stopped herself. Most of her father's work was trying and failing to find work, after all.

"Too young, not white or Asian, Merchants are a shit option, and the version that was around when he started was even worse." Skidmark was an asshole, but the Merchants had calmed down since he'd taken over, mostly because he'd still been consolidating his power base within the gang for the past year or so.

Taylor took in her words and thought, before rolling her eyes. "The Wards, then. I know you said they're terrible with parents, letting past crimes slide, but I refuse to believe they'd leave a child with a druggie parent, or an actively abusive home." Taylor had no idea how corrupt the system was, but she'd convinced herself it couldn't be that bad, and wasn't going to budge.

Now Lisa just had to make it sound good, or at least not bad, without actually lying about it. "He doesn't want to move her to a home that's less shitty, he wants a good home for her." She silently begged Taylor to just drop it.

"How old are they, and how long has he been at this?" Taylor asked, coldly.

Lisa winced. "He's seventeen, she's thirteen. He's been trying to get custody since before he had powers, about three years now."

Taylor frowned, thinking it over. "Would her father have abused her?" Lisa hesitated, but shook her head. "So what you're saying is, he let his sister say in an abusive home, because he didn't want to sign on with the Wards for a few years, because he thought he could do better, and still hasn't managed it." Lisa winced a little harder at each of her points. "How long until he actually gets custody?"

She sighed. "Coil's helping with the paperwork, but isn't actually going to push it through unless he needs something from Grue. She's the carrot and the stick, with him."

Taylor shook her head, unimpressed. "Hell of a team, so far."

Lisa sighed, and carried on. "Bitch is better and worse." Taylor was about to get indignant about the name, before she held up her hands. "She calls herself Bitch. The PRT calls her Hellhound, but she hates that name. Her name is Rachel, she doesn't really have a secret identity. She's wanted for murder, but it wasn't her fault." She pieced together how best to frame the story until Taylor started getting impatient. "She makes dogs grow, bigger, stronger... she needs to train them, though. Her first dog killed her foster mother, when she triggered. The PRT still says she can flat out control them, though, which makes it murder. She's been on the run ever since." She shook her head, throwing her hands up helplessly. "The big problem with her is the way she thinks. I'm not sure if she was autistic before she triggered or if her powers fucked up her head, but she thinks like a really smart dog that can talk. She values dogs more than people, saving dogs, caring for them, training them, but doesn't care if she has to hurt humans to do it. Coil gives her the money to take care of them, and being a villain means she can attack whoever she wants to save dogs from fighting rings, or abusive homes, or whatever." She crossed her arms, flicking a flat hand toward Taylor. "If you can manage that, get her the money for her dogs, fix her legal trouble, give her too many dogs that need her to go running off saving more, she will not give one single fuck who you are or what you do. She'll be happy with that."

She rather deliberately failed to mention Rachel's penchant for aggressive dominance plays. Terraform could take it, and the bitch deserved to have her shit rattled a little. "That it?" Taylor asked after shaking her head and trying to process Bitch being Bitch.

Lisa shook hers, too. "There's also Regent. He's... okay." Lisa waggled her hand in a so-so gesture. "He's a bit of a sociopath, but he's a hedonist. Pay him not to cause trouble and he won't, unless someone outbids you." Taylor raised her eyebrow and gave her an incredulous stare before motioning her to continue. "He's a runaway, like me. Except his dad is worse. Much worse. please don't make me talk about it." Taylor thought long and hard about it, but eventually relented. "Like I said, we don't really care about being villains but..." She shrugged. "You're gonna have your hands full if you want to go full hero complex trying to save them."

Wants to save them. Needs to try.

Lisa clamped down on her power again, closing her eyes and letting Taylor think. "It's all a fucking mess." She muttered. Lisa opened her eyes to find Taylor shaking her head and rubbing her eyes.

"You could always choose not to save them." Lisa said softly, knowing that would drive Taylor decide to do exactly the opposite. From the glare she got, the other girl knew it too.

Knows you're manipulating her. Hates being manipulated. Needs to be heroic. Needs to save others. Hates you. Wants to save you.

"Fuck you." Taylor growled. They both knew she'd already won.

Lisa barely choked down the snarky retort that would just make the situation worse. "I'm sorry." She lied. "I really do need help, though. I'll make it up to you. To start with, you still want that coffee, right?" Taylor grimaced, checking her phone and realizing just how late she was. "Hey, it's okay. You can just say you slept in. Lots of late kids at schools today." Lisa moved, sidling past and motioning Taylor to follow, and she reluctantly complied.

They made their way into the coffee shop, and Taylor briefly boggled at the lines, before accepting it. "I knew it was crowded, but..."

"Seeing it yourself, yeah." Lisa nodded. "Go sit, I'll grab drinks. I know what you like." Taylor gave her an odd glance before letting herself be shooed off into a seat. It was just a matter of glancing back at her to see where her eyes were landing on the menu boards to have a good idea what to get. When she finally made it to the front, she ordered her usual along with a few varieties of caffeinated chocolate. Taylor didn't want to talk, so she just stood off to the side and waited.

When the queue caught up and their drinks were done about ten minutes later, she consolidated the trays properly and brought the order over. Her own drink in hand, she set the full drink tray at the table. Taylor gave her a confused look. "Enough for the walk, and the shower, and your friend, if she still wants one..." Lisa trailed off, grinning.

Taylor was still glaring slightly, but it wasn't as bad now that she had chocolate, and time to cool off. "Thanks, I guess."

Lisa shrugged, humming out a whiny non-committal sound. "Wasn't hard to figure out my usual Mean Girls shtick was the worst possible thing for keeping my face not-broken."

Taylor grumbled, taking a sip of her chocolate and sounding incredibly disappointed. Lisa was having trouble caring. If she wanted her to be honest, she could suck it up and be happy Lisa was even still playing along. Taylor did something to her drink, then really started into it despite how hot it should still be. Probably temperature stuff, she could turn water to ice, if her file was right.

Seeing the other girl was going to leave her out to dry if she didn't start things off, Lisa kept talking. "Do you have a number you want me to get ahold of you on?"

She hummed, thought for a bit, then gave her cape phone's number once she'd remembered what it was. Lisa could've gotten the number herself, guessing it with her power after a while if it wasn't on file somewhere, but this saved her a little effort. Taylor was zoning out pretty hard, and the trickle of information from her power told her the girl was coming down off the fight high their initial confrontation had caused. Even that was causing painful twangs behind her eyes, now.

"Hey, I'm gonna run. Boss probably isn't expecting me in today," Lisa winked when Taylor gave her a confused glance. Big crowd in a public place, no cape talk. "and my head's starting to kill me. I'll call you sometime?" The stare briefly hardened back into a glare, before she gave up on it and nodded with a sigh. "Great! Talk to you then!" Lisa chirped happily, standing back to her full height since she hadn't bothered to sit. "Remember to head to class soon if you're doing the school thing, today." She didn't actually care, but that seemed like a good, friendly note to end on.

After that Lisa headed out to her car, hopping in and pawing for her purse. She sat it in her lap and slipped a hand in, leaning her forehead heavily on the steering wheel while she gave herself a few seconds of enjoying the comforting weight of her pistol. That had been way too close to a fight she couldn't win for her liking, and she shuddered slightly as her power poked her with just how close she'd come to a PRT cell.

The feeling of nails slowly pushing themselves out of her temples wasn't helping, either.

"Not even nine and my power's already shot for today." She groaned. At this rate she'd be lucky to last the rest of the day without ending up bedridden. She hated having to sit around bored in the dark just trying to keep her headaches from getting worse, but it felt like one of those days. She idly debated just taking some sleeping pills, or one of the stronger painkillers, but dismissed it. She wasn't risking an addiction over this.

Coil kept their medicine cabinet ludicrously well stocked, to Alec's glee, for exactly that reason. Easier to control his pet Thinker if he could trick her into hooking herself on something. Her hand drifted through her bag to grab her aspirin instead, and she popped a couple. Then she stretched and started the car, heading for her apartment. Comfy bed and thick blackout curtains were exactly what she needed right now. The boss was probably going to throw a fit and threaten her for leaving her assignment, but they both knew today was about posturing anyway. She'd have the rest of the Empire's names soon enough, he just wanted to order her around and prove he was still the boss.

With any luck, though? That was changing soon.

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Dalxein

Feb 24, 2020

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Threadmarks Chapter 2.3 (Falling) New

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Dalxein

Dalxein

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Feb 29, 2020

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#329

THU FEB 24

I had no idea what to think about Lisa. That girl pissed me off so much, but she really did seem to be in a shitty situation and needed help.

...and she did get me chocolate...

I'd formed a tiny bit of ice in the first cup, just to make it easier to drink immediately. Chugged half of it just to start the caffeine flowing, before slowing down to drink it as I sat there and thought about my life. I was a hero. I'd gone out into the world, and made a difference. I had a team, if I had to guess pretty soon I'd have a big team. If we even managed six capes total, that's still more than most groups had. Brockton was weird, having such a big Protectorate team, a huge gang like the E88, and the cultural oddity that was New Wave, all in the same city. Most cape gangs were like the ABB and the Merchants. Even in Brockton's history, you usually had gangs built around one strong cape like Marquis, or gangs that tended to have a few members and a heavy hitter, like the Teeth. They'd only had five or six capes while they were active in the bay, usually just relying on the Butcher's reputation and powers before they'd gotten kicked out by the Nine. The Nine, who usually didn't even have nine capes, most notable for being an absurd number of strong capes in one group, which led to them surviving long enough to warrant the rest of their reputation.

So yeah, even with four, or six, or however many capes my team wound up having, that's a lot of weight to throw around. If you don't count the Merchants, that means hero groups would outnumber big villain gangs, three-to-two. We could do this. We could fix the Bay. Build up momentum. Change the world.

...so why did I feel so shitty?

I was tired. I was worn out, emotionally more than physically, after Amy took most of my exhaustion away. I wanted to believe it was just that, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't. Like I was overreaching, overstepping, like everything was going to come crumbling down. I felt like I wasn't ready, like I'd jumped in too deep, people were going to start relying on me, and I'd just let them down.

It was stupid. I knew it was stupid. I was strong, resilient, enduring. I'd survived Winslow, I could do anything. ...but it still felt like a lie. I cleared my mind, pushed the feelings away. I could deal with them later. A large part of me wanted to just head home and crawl into bed, but I knew I'd just wallow if I did that. I'd just stay up in bed, thinking myself into negative spirals again, and wind up wasting the rest of the day. As long as I went to school, I'd have something else to think about. Something else to do to take my mind off things. I could sleep when I was tired enough to sleep, not just stew drowsily in my mood. That decided, I started walking to school. Not running, very intentionally walking. Just because I knew going to school was better than going home didn't mean I was excited for it. I was already missing first period, and with my slow walk I'd probably get there around when second started. I'd just skip that, too. Using the time to take my shower without rushing, relax a bit. Then I could deal with the rest of my day.

I sipped at the second of the cups on my way. They were all basically hot chocolate with a shot of espresso, which I liked better than most coffee. I'd have to remember, for next time. I wasn't sold on drinking in the shower, like Lisa'd implied, but it was nice knowing I wouldn't run out.

That led my thoughts back to Lisa, and I sighed. Villains. Kids doing their own thing, people trying to get by, doing the wrong thing for the right reasons... they were a mistake. A whole host of mistakes. Bitch was the PRT's mistake. They'd made a villain out of a scared, confused girl. Grue made his own mistakes, I felt. Pride or arrogance, making him lose sight of what was important. Lisa could have joined a team, gotten support from somewhere. I had a feeling she wasn't from Brockton, so she'd moved around. Surely there were hero or rogue groups she could have joined up with, to prevent this whole Coil situation. Instead she'd run around on her own, stealing and trusting her power to get by, cocksure no one could outsmart her. It made me feel like this was the inevitable conclusion of a choice she'd made for herself.

I had no idea who'd messed up in Regent's life, but felt pretty safe blaming his dad, whoever that was. It felt a little silly to expect moral choices from a poorly raised sociopath, which was the impression I'd gotten from Lisa's description. Him, I wasn't sure I could help.

The others, I wasn't sure I should help. They weren't my mistakes. They weren't my kids, weren't my team, but there was a nagging thought that at least some of them could be, if I tried hard enough. I wanted to help them, give them the chance to be better people. I wanted fewer villains in the world. More heroes. More friends.

I shut my eyes tightly and sighed. I already had more friends now than I'd ever had before. Even before Winslow, before Emma turned on me, it'd really just been her. She'd been the center of my life. She was...

My head shook violently to clear that train of thought. It didn't matter now. She was gone, and I was a different person. That me was dead. My Emma was dead.

I luxuriated in the water, Arcadia's newer boilers hitting temperatures that put Winslow's to shame. It didn't have the wait to heat up at home, or the worry our old water heater would run out, or finally die and need replacing. Things were simpler here. Better. I could scrub and scrub, stripping off the grime and stress both. I took the time to wash my hair, something I never gave myself at school these days, even though I'd had shampoo and conditioner just in case. Habits from Winslow, to always be prepared.

I'd had almost an hour, and still used most of it. I felt a lot better, feeling clean and wandering the halls, sipping the third of the drinks Lisa's gotten me. I'd reheated it with my powers, spending a couple minutes trying to figure out how to do it with waterbending, only to realize it was easier with fire for some reason. I was tired though, and just shrugged and accepted it. I had a steamy drink again, so I was happy.

I was heading upstairs to meet Amy, looking for her in the senior classrooms as I went. I knew roughly where she'd be, since I'd found her coming down to or up from her third period often enough. Some remedial biology she needed to finish up, her power making the actual textbook learning difficult. She likened it to the saying that the better you were at chess, the worse you were at checkers, because the board was the same. She'd needed to learn a few mental tricks to make things click, but by then she'd already taken the class. They stuck her in the AP class with the sophomore honors students to replace her grade, and she was doing well enough to earn her stay, but she was a little sore it was even a thing.

After finding Amy, I waited out the last few minutes before the bell in the hall outside. I took the time to heat the last of the drinks, while no one was around to notice. When the bell rang, the seniors started filing out of class, many of them eyeing me curiously, or staring hungrily at the disposable coffee cups in my hands. Of all the years, the seniors had the fewest absentees today. This made sense to me, they were the ones generally most worried about their grades and futures, but I was still surprised how many were here. If this were Winslow, I'd expect a full quarter to a third of the students to not bother showing up. While Arcadia had absences on the other hand, I think the classes hit the hardest only had four or five empty desks each.

Amy was one of the last people out, having been slow to pack up, and being stalled at her desk by a few gossipers from the look of things. I saw her answering a couple things, but she didn't feel great and was probably deflecting. When she left the room, the only ones left were the ones trailing after her like birds following someone spreading crumbs. She caught sight of me and made her way over, eyes locked on the cups in my hands. The others following her broke off for various reasons. One of them sneered at me a little, but didn't kick up a fuss.

She took the cup I offered her, sniffing at it and then taking a sip, her eyes closing as she hummed with pleasure. "I love you." She mumbled, staring into the cup, before her eyes tracked up to mine. She blushed a little, having been caught in her private chocolate tryst. "Know that of all the people at this school to whom I am not related, I hate you the least." She said to me.

I snorted. "I don't hate you too, Amy." I nodded my head down the hall, and she followed as I led the way down to our classes. "How have you been? I wound up skipping a bit to shower and get coffee."

She grumbled in response. "I wish I could skip, but I'd never get away with it." She muttered terrible things about her mother, and I left her to it. At the very least it kept her animated. A few people said hello, including some of the girls from last Friday, but no one actually stopped us on our way downstairs. I'm pretty sure sticking by her left everyone else thinking she was busy, and thus not available to pester.

The chatter around us was more subdued than normal considering what'd happened last night, but it still made our comparative silence feel oppressive. "So, how's biology going?" I asked to fill the void.

She tensed, claws gripping at her cup. "Oh, it's fine." She muttered. "I know all the material, I have first-hand experience, and it's not like I didn't already have a passing grade or anything." Her words rapidly rose to a hiss. I knew she wasn't mad at me, but she was still pretty intense. A few moments later, she snapped, stopping in the middle of the hallway and throwing her hands up, her cup and clawed hand on either side of her head. "I had a C!" She roared at the ceiling. I scooted around in front of her in the gap in the mass of humanity cluttering the hallway her outburst had caused. She was still tired and frustrated, and I'd managed to unwittingly trigger a need to vent. "I still think Carol just didn't want me to have a free period. 'What about medical school, Amy? You have good Chemistry scores, Amy! You need to bring up all your medical-related grades, Amy! Think of your future, Amy!' ugh!"

A couple other students snickered as they passed, but most of them were wary of any sort of public outburst. I had to admit though, from the outside it did sound like ordinary griping about an overbearing parent. "At least it's easy, right? You could do with a good zone-out period."

Her slight hyperventilation petered out into a sigh. "Yeah, yeah. At least Thurston doesn't call on me anymore. Only so many times the super-nerds ask about 'live demonstrations' or 'expert opinions' or 'parahuman perspectives' before it gets old, even for him." Mr. Thurston was a portly, inquisitive sort of teacher that according to rumor, liked promoting innovative thought and curiosity in his students. He sounded like a less-shitty Mr. Gladly, but I was probably being unfair because I didn't have him for any of my classes.

"Everything else been okay, though?" We started moving a little, since the cleared space was closing in again.

She gave me a 'so-so' hand waggle. "Pretty normal day after stuff." She paused to think on it. "Just assholes trying to chat me up because they think there's some scoop to be had, or people thinking I need consoling for my ordeal like I was actually in the fight or something... and then there's the people who don't feel safe, trying to cluster up around a 'hero' because it makes them feel better..." She sighed, rubbing her face. "I don't want to rip their throats out for it, but it gets old fast."

"I'm sorry." I muttered the platitude, not sure what else I could say.

Amy shrugged. "Ehh, is what it is." She sounded tired, and felt drained and apathetic again. We'd made it to her class though. "See you at lunch?"

I nodded and agreed, letting her slip into the classroom before I headed off to mine. I kept an eye on her throughout the period, watching her mostly resting and dozing. When the change to fourth period rolled around, I debated walking her to that too, but didn't want to feel too clingy. She had the same sort of gaggle trying to talk to her, but it helped they were different years and split off when they got into the hall. It was perhaps a touch creepy to spend so much of my attention watching my friend, but I wasn't having any trouble keeping up with the lessons. When the class let out, I made sure to be one of the first out the door. Amy was being hounded by classmates looking to follow her to lunch, and I wanted to head that off. I took a few deep breaths, wondering how to handle this, before focusing on trying to channel my old middle school chatterbox self.

"Amy!" I called, bustling into their circle and addressing the others. "I'm sorry, we had plans. See you all later?" I gathered up Amy and bundled her along with my momentum. "Sorry, got to go, bye!" I was edging into hyperventilating the whole time I was pulling Amy down the hall with me. "Oh god, how did I used to do that?" I groused, the nervous energy pouring out and leaving me feeling drained.

"...the hell?" Amy muttered, confused and amused.

"Didn't want to talk to them." I said, not bothering to elaborate. "Gotta' figure out what to do for lunch, now."

Amy heaved a groan at the thought. "Could always go out. Get food poisoning so I don't have to come back." She sounded oddly hopeful at the thought. "If you shot me, we could blame it on a gang or something?"

I whapped the back of her head. "Bad Amy." She glared and stuck her tongue out at me. I chuckled, but kept thinking. We could go out, there were a few restaurants nearby who did most of their business on Arcadia's lunch hours, but we'd probably have to have me run us to somewhere on the Boardwalk to get any peace. We could head outside and claim our bench if I wiped the water off with my hoodie. We could try to just deflect everything to Vicky by sitting at her table, but that wouldn't solve the problem. Then I noticed someone staying behind in a room nearby. "I have an idea." She gave me a curious grunt, to which I replied, "Come on, let's get our lunches, just follow me."

We made our way down, hopping into the same line to stick together and try to look like we were chatting so people would leave Amy alone. I wound up getting her to talk about some of the books she was looking into lately, just to keep the words flowing. When we got to the end, we managed to hit a pair of free pay stations to weigh our food and scan our drinks and ID cards, before I lead her straight to the doors back into the school.

Amy was confused, but followed along anyway. I led her up the stairs, and back into one of the senior classrooms. I knocked on the cracked-open door, catching Tracy's attention. "Hey, you mind some company?" Her wide startled eyes darted between me and Amy, forgetting entirely to chew the food in her mouth. "Amy's tired of the crowds, and it's quiet here."

Tracy glanced to the side to think for a moment, before she continued chewing with a nod. "That would be fine." She said once her mouth was clear. "I don't have any problem with it." We made our way over and she glanced between us, her emotions flickering before settling on a rough mix of compassionate sadness. "I'm sorry, high school isn't very kind to celebrities, especially in times like these."

Amy shrugged as she pulled up a seat. "I'm used to it, don't worry about it."

Her sadness turned somewhat sharper as she continued. "I'd like to think I understand, but I've never really mattered outside of school." She shook her head. Amy was mostly ignoring her, but I could feel her irritation building. "The scale really doesn't compare. I'm glad you're taking the time to take care of yourself." Amy was nearly grumbling by now. Tracy turned to me with a nod. "And I'm glad that you have Taylor."

Amy choked a little, turning to glare at the redhead, who chuckled quietly. I felt like I was missing something. At first I'd been worried I'd messed up bringing Amy here, but now I had to wonder if they knew each other. They were both seniors after all, they had to have shared a class or two at some point.

I decided to cut in, just in case I was misreading things. "I'm glad to help. Hey, are we seeing you Friday? I forgot to ask about your schedule for things like basketball practice, and games, and..." I trailed off.

She chuckled, then fell into a lecturing tone to explain. "Oh, don't worry. Most of the teams have their mandatory practice sometime over the weekend, because club things are usually weekdays. Girls' basketball is Saturday afternoon. The coaches oversee optional practice every day though, and... uhh..." She trailed off shyly, her emotions dipping darkly into anxiety and shame. "We're supposed to attend at least two a week to keep our spots on the team, but..." Her mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to find the right words. "Coach, she'd... have a hard time justifying benching me."

"So you get a few extra days off." Amy said, shrugging as she started digging at her food. "Perks of being tall, right?"

Tracy's eyes narrowed, and her emotions flashed briefly into a roiling cauldron of loathing before it seemed to collapse into frustration, sadness, anxiety and half a dozen other emotions I was having trouble making out. "I suppose so." She muttered, not feeling like she agreed at all.

I liked Tracy, but her emotions were all over the place. It made me worry about her, something had to be wrong, but I couldn't figure out what it might be. "So what do you do with the time, then?"

She froze, giving me a wide-eyed deer-in-headlights startled stare for a moment. Her eyes darted between us before she found her voice. "I do... hobbies."

Amy scoffed. "We're not gonna' tattle on you for skipping out to ride your boyfriend, or whatever."

Tracy ground her teeth a bit, stabbing her fork a little more forcefully into her tupperware full of salad greens. "Don't have a boyfriend." She muttered.

"Girlfriend?" Amy asked offhandedly, before she shook her head and shrugged. "Nah, it doesn't matter. If you weren't one of the straightest laces in this school I'd be worried." She pointed her fork at the redhead, swirling it in the air a bit. "But you're almost as bad as Taylor is, there."

Tracy blushed and went back to nibbling her rabbit food. "Yeah, I was just trying to make conversation, is all." I said, trying to coax her out of her mood. "Have you been reading or watching anything lately?"

Lunch was a much lighter affair after that, more discussing her and my mutual lack of entertainment media hobbies, before Amy started making fun of us by recommending several of the spicier titles she'd partaken of lately. I had to admit, Tracy was pretty cute when she was blushing and sputtering. I could see why she was popular, despite being a bit standoffish.

We finished our food and said our goodbyes, Amy and I heading down to turn in our trays. "Hey, you.. knew Tracy before, right?" Amy nodded and gave an affirmative. "Has she always been…?"

"A barely thawed salmon?" She rolled her eyes. "Pretty much. She's not a bad person, just… ugh." She shook her head. "She's been better since Kara adopted her a couple years back." She was quiet for a while. "I think… she doesn't like Vicky's aura. They used to be friends, on the basketball team together, but Vicky quit after she got powers. I haven't seen them together since. And I'm usually around Vicky, so…"

"Ah." She would've drifted away from Amy too, then. "Thanks for telling me."

Amy gave me a tired hum I chose to interpret as 'you're welcome', and the rest of the trip was made in comfortable silence. We had to dodge or deflect a few people who wanted to chat once we were there, both on the way in and back out. It was only after we got to the stairs that I felt okay letting Amy wander off on her own again. She kept going up while I stopped at the second floor to head to my own class.

I kept an eye on her for the rest of the day. She steadily got more tired, cranky, and zombie-like over the next few hours. It was enough that by the end, only a couple people were brave enough to risk talking to her. I met her on the stairs, where she hummed a noise of vague greeting, and took to escorting her out. I was starting to get a little worried that she was going to just fall over soon. Luckily Vicky met us at the entrance, and bundled her sister up to fly home and get some sleep. Before she left, she mouthed 'thank you' when Amy couldn't see it, and I nodded back. She loved her sister, and if I had to guess, appreciated that I'd kept Amy busy at lunch and kept an eye on her while Vicky herself was off at the university.

With that, I headed straight home, hopping on the bus and taking my time walking after I got to my stop. My mind wandered, and I let it. Worrying about Canberra, the Undersiders, Lisa, Tracy… I had a lot on my mind, and not much idea what to do about them. When I got closer to home, I sighed. I'd also forgotten that Gram was in town, as evidenced by the car and driver in our driveway, and the woman herself waiting in the house while dad puttered around, apparently working on dinner.

I gave the driver an awkward wave as I trudged past her to my doom. My eyes darted briefly over the room, almost exactly as I left it this morning, save the television flickering silently, and the old woman in the padded seat across the room. Gram was poised rather well to see me as I came in from where she was seated. She looked up from a rather large tablet computer, pinning me with a distinctly unimpressed stare. "Hey, Gram." I muttered, slipping my bag off and setting it down by the couch.

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Dalxein

Feb 29, 2020

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Threadmarks Chapter 2.4 (Stumbling) New

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Dalxein

Dalxein

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Mar 6, 2020

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#356

THU FEB 24

"Hey, Gram." I muttered, slipping my bag off and setting it down by the couch.

"I am rather angry with you." She stated, her tone deceptively calm. I could feel her frustration, worry and indignation giving way to relief as she inspected me and found me whole and well. She glanced back down, her finger running over the tablet's screen a few times, punctuated by a couple of careful taps. She didn't seem entirely comfortable using it, from what I could feel. I could see her as the sort of person who'd find herself determined to learn newer more useful tools, despite habits or preconceptions. Then again, it could just be that she found the larger screen easier to deal with than a smartphone. Her cell phone was a sturdy-looking flip model, after all. "However…" she said, pausing to stare at the screen for a moment before turning it towards me. It looked like a forum thread, maybe PHO. There was an image embedded in one of the posts, and I could tell even from here that it was a scene of the Canberra cleanup efforts. It was a picture of me, holding two or three dozen of tons of stone- spread across thousands of chunks- in the air. "…I am also very proud of you."

Any attempt at finding an excuse for my actions she'd accept caught in my throat. She was proud of me. More than any lack of lie to her words, actually recognizing it in her emotions struck me to a state of shocked stupefaction. It was only after uselessly working my jaw for a few seconds that I realized my eyes were starting to tear up. I almost missed Dad coming in to check on me for himself, before sighing and going back to the kitchen. I glanced after him, startling back to action and scrubbing at my face. Gram was considerately pretending to ignore me for the moment. "Thanks." I muttered, once I was done.

She nodded. "This is a magnificent PR coup. It hasn't been a day, and Terraform is already the talk of several web sites and news agencies." She nodded to the television, which I'd been ignoring. My earth senses couldn't tell what was on screens, and unless I had a reason to focus on them, they just didn't seem important. It was one of the local news stations, talking about me. The fact that I'd missed it when it was just out of sight made me think I needed to prioritize giving screens more actual-eyes priority in the future. "Fame and results will give you a reputation, and a solid reputation over time becomes influence. This will likely have a positive effect on recruitment efforts going forward, as well as improve your position in any negotiations you and your team find yourselves involved in."

That… didn't feel right. "But I was there to save people." I insisted. "I didn't do it to be famous." I'd wanted to do good, look good doing it, and I'd wanted a reputation for doing good. The way she was framing reputations and influence just sounded so… manipulative to me. I didn't like it.

She turned back to me from the TV, drawing in a slow breath as she bored into me with those calculating eyes. "And were it anyone else, I would look at this, think a few good thoughts about a job well done, say a prayer for this good Samaritan and those poor souls left in that city, and move on with my day." She pointed her finger back at the tablet, back at the picture of Terraform in action. "But they are not you. You are my priority. Over any stranger, any city, any people." I could feel the conviction in her words as she spoke, staring so intensely into my eyes she was nearly glaring. "There is nothing still on God's green Earth I would save before you, if only I could."

I stepped back away from her, and she faltered slightly. She took another breath and looked away. I was at a loss for what to say after that, and simply waited.

"I am sorry." She said after another few moments. "You want to be a hero. You want to save people, change things for the better." She turned her eyes back to mine. "But to do the most good, you must use everything you have to your advantage. That includes things you may find distasteful, like fame or influence."

It still felt wrong, but good ends sometimes justified things. I just didn't like it because I couldn't help but imagining myself on the other side, being the manipulated. "I don't even know how."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Are you unwilling to learn?" I flinched at the accusation of willful ignorance. No one in our family was fond of that trait, myself included. Gram shook her head. "Your team will likely need someone focused on public relations, whether that's a member, or a civilian contracted for it." She turned her attention back to the tablet. "Fame and reputation can be turned against you, made into notoriety, but I don't believe that is likely, at the moment. We have some time."

"Alright." I stood there for a bit, awkwardly waiting, before deciding to sit down. I knew I was high-strung after the day I'd had, but I was starting to think I needed a break to myself to rest and sleep more than I'd thought. Dad finished up the food, a stew in the crock pot and a casserole in the oven, it looked like. Then he came back around to peek into the living room where we were again. "Hey, dad."

He flinched, then continued fully into the room. "Hey, Taylor." He was anxious and worried, but less than he had been. There was a cocktail of self-conscious emotions underlying everything. "You're okay?"

"Yeah," I gave him a weary smile. "I'm tired, but I'm fine."

"Good." He nodded. "That's good. I..." He shook his head with a small grimace. "Dinner'll be ready in about an hour, figured you'd want to eat early." I nodded, and he returned it. "Well, I'll... be upstairs if you need me."

He fled slowly up the stairs, and I stared after him in confusion. I turned to Gram, who was still pretending to ignore it. I didn't think I'd get an answer if I asked her what that was about, so I just shook my head and slumped further back into my seat.

A couple minutes later, Gram nodded to herself, apparently satisfied with her information gathering. I'd been watching the TV, reading the info ribbon at the bottom, as well as the text boxes and trying to read lips to get a better grasp of what exactly was being said. "Have you made a decision about the Medhall meeting?"

I blinked and stared, slightly startled that I'd forgotten. "I think so, but… I think there's something you need to know, first." I couldn't just let her walk blindly into trouble when telling her might help. Being there might make me feel a little better about it, and she did want me to start learning business things… She was confused, but nodded for me to continue. "I'm pretty sure that… Medhall's run by Kaiser. It explains how the Empire's so entrenched in the city, and well-funded, despite not really doing much besides hate crimes."

"Anders?" I thought the name was right, so I nodded. She pondered the information, before continuing. "How certain are you, of this?"

"The… uh." How to tell your grandmother you're involved with shadowy espionage groups. "The person I got the information from was very confident in it." Arthur hadn't seemed to be lying, and Sue trusted him. I couldn't think of a good reason for them to lie to me, or arrange a way to fool the senses they hadn't asked about. "I believe it."

She was suspicious, but I'm not sure I blamed her for it. Still, she nodded. "That's going to change things."

"So we're not going?" I asked, confused.

She shook her head. "No, very little of our interactions with them will change. I arranged to be at the meeting, changing that would draw attention. If this is true," I could tell she wasn't entirely convinced yet, but was entertaining the notion seriously all the same. "it will change how we approach the city as a whole, and its criminal elements." She paused, closing her eyes in thought and leaning forward slightly. Her fingers tapped away at each other for a few moments before she shook her head. "It's going to take a lot of thought to decide how to prepare for this situation, we cannot attack Medhall directly, they're one of the few large employers propping up the city's economy. Any attempt to weaken this Empire through their links to the company could be construed as trying to remove even more of the city's jobs and income." She sighed, rubbing at her eyes. "The loss of medical tourism alone would set the city's administration against us."

"Medical tourism?"

She smirked at my confusion. "There are several kinds of tourism, but medical tourism is where you travel to a different city, state, country… for their medical specialists. Some travel because the cost of procedures are much lower than locally, and so the travel and medical expenses combined come out to be less than if they'd stayed. Others go to the most expensive and experienced specialists for a higher average chance of recovery. While they're there, they or their families are staying around the city, spending money. Hence the industry built around it." She waved her hand vaguely south, in the direction of the Towers and the nicer part of the city. "Medhall owns and operates several specialized clinics, as well as the Anders Memorial Hospital."

Everyone I knew just went to Brockton General, and I guess that was why, if the other option was some specialist setup. "What do they do?"

"Mostly Oncology and Immunology, they're trying to break into Neurology and degenerative diseases, but haven't managed to start pulling from out of state there, yet." Gram paused to think again. "I wasn't informed of any other businesses involved owned by them, so I believe the rest of the tourist industry is owned by other local families." She waved her hand and smirked. "Speaking of local businesses, if you are still intending to accompany me to Medhall or other ventures…?" I nodded, and she continued. "Then would I be wrong to assume you are currently lacking in proper business attire?"

Wait, did she mean… like a suit? "Maaaybe?" I trailed off, cautiously.

She huffed out a small sigh through her nose, and nodded. "We'll have to fix that. Impressions are very important, especially first ones. I'm fairly certain there are a couple options we can make appointments with for fittings and tailoring."

My mind immediately jumped to Parian. "Aaactually… I kind of have a preferred… tailor?" Gram hummed and quirked a brow. I could tell she was humoring me. "There's a rogue, an independent cape, who works with clothes. She's the one making my costumes and… I might owe her a little, for some help recently?" I grimaced a bit. That felt pretty weak, especially with how unsure I sounded presenting it.

Gram hummed and thought for a moment, instead of dismissing it outright. "Tell me more."

I sighed a little, as anxious tension flowed out. "She has her own store near the Boardwalk, I think it's a recent thing. Her power lets her control cloth and threads, and small objects like needles. She uses her power to hand-make clothes, about as fast as someone could with machines, I think." I shook my head, feeling slightly frustrated with the less useful tangent. "She's taking advantage of the Bay's cape tourism, to sell cape-made things."

"And she is doing well for herself?"

I could tell she wanted details, but I wasn't sure which details were important. "Well, she has her store, and a floor full of clothes to sell, and at least a couple employees…" I was struggling to remember if I'd actually seen anyone buy anything while I was there during business hours. I hadn't been paying any particular attention to the checkstand, since I'd bypassed it. "She doesn't seem too stressed or worried about her business, though." Busy, yes, but I hadn't noticed any desperation in our negotiations. It was a little awkward, but I still thought I was probably her first cape client. There couldn't be that many non-government capes besides New Wave who could spare something like a thousand dollars a costume. Mine were cheaper, but the materials I wanted were comparatively cheap, and the design fairly simple, and my bill reflected that. It's not like I was jumping into fights in fine silk like a crazy person.

"She does commissions and rush orders?"

I hesitated. "Yes and… I think so? Why does that matter?"

She gave a small sigh. "Medhall's board meetings are the first Monday of each month, the next will be on March 7th. There are other meetings before that one, however. Less significant business prospects, but ones you're likely to interact with more often than Medhall." Gram shook her head. "It would be preferable to have you involved with them from the start, rather than handing the reigns over later, as it were. I doubt the stores I'm thinking of would take more than a day to finish your business attire, which would more readily enable this."

I didn't want to just give up, but I couldn't refute her point. "I want to at least check with her, first. If she can't get it done in time, we can go somewhere else?"

She hummed and nodded. "I'll set up an appointment. Are you busy tomorrow, or over the weekend?"

Well, I did have the Friday training with Kara, Amy, and maybe Cass, along with the rest… and I really shouldn't put telling Vicky off any more than I already had. That seemed like a good day for it, if she wasn't busy. Stuff with Dinah didn't seem to last too long past lunch these days, and I wasn't sure bringing Amy along would change that. "I think I'm busy tomorrow, but Saturday afternoon on, and all of Sunday I'm free."

Gram shook her head ruefully. "Sunday mornings aren't for work, dear." I didn't refute it, but also didn't believe it. At least she wasn't pushing, or trying to get me to go to church or something. "I'll schedule a fitting in the afternoon over the weekend. Now, most of these meetings will happen during business hours, which overlap heavily with school hours. Your father and I have already arranged for me to be able to pull you from classes on the grounds of family business training. Your instructors should be informed when this occurs, but it will be up to you to complete missed classwork, and informing them of the situation yourself ahead of time is only prudent."

I hadn't been expecting to skip school for any of this, but in hindsight it seemed obvious. "That makes sense. I can start on that tomorrow, I think."

Gram nodded, taking a moment to tap a couple things on her tablet. "That was everything I had planned to discuss, unless you needed help with something?"

My mind drifted to earlier with Tracy, and how she obviously needed help, before flashing to coffee with Kara, where she'd implored me to seek help. I suppose if there was ever a time to ask… "I was thinking about maybe… getting a therapist." Mental health was always a bit of a touchy subject, especially back in Gram's day. I wasn't sure how she'd react. "But I'm not sure about insurance, or payments, or finding them…"

Gram didn't seem enthused about the topic, but she wasn't dismissing it outright. "Dear, the first thing I did after I helped your father pay off the last of your hospital bills was expedite moving you from his insurance plan to mine." My mind stalled a bit. I hadn't known Dad needed help with that. I thought the settlement had covered it? Gram wasn't lying… but also didn't seem worried or angry about it. I was hoping it hadn't been very much, after all that. "I'm assured there are very few specialists you would not be covered to see, should you want to."

"Oh." I wasn't the only one who'd need help though, I was sure. Triggers were usually life-altering for the worse, almost by definition. "I was thinking about the team, though. Not just me."

She hummed in thought. "That, would have to wait until the team's official formation, I think." The confusion must have shown on my face, because she felt slightly amused as she continued. "If you intend for it to be a benefit to the team, available to membership, you'll need to arrange for medical insurance, which will require an entity to do that negotiating. Your team's legal presence as an organization. The same will be true of liability insurance, income, taxes, pay…" My head was already spinning, it didn't help that I was still tired. Gram chuckled at my pained look. "The first step will either be incorporation as a company like a limited liability entity, or a non-profit like New Wave, or seeking out an attorney or executor to handle it. The rest will come after that."

My head dropped into my hands as I groaned and rubbed my face. "There's a lot more to making a team than I thought…"

"Only if you wish it to be a legal entity independent of the Protectorate, which I believe is rather intentional on their part." Gram stated darkly with a rueful smile.

I groaned. Was it too late to join the Wards? No, I'd never get anything done as a Ward. I was just too tired to feel excited about bureaucracy and paperwork. "I'll deal with that later…" I muttered.

"It was never going to be a swift process, but it needs to start eventually. Rushing too quickly can be as detrimental as waiting too long, however." She shook her head, grabbing for her cane and pushing herself stiffly from the chair. "Think on it. Whether you want your team to be for-profit, non-profit… technically you could even incorporate under a larger company's aegis, if you wanted. You should consider all of your options carefully." She waited for me to pull my head up and look her way. "Was that everything, dear?"

I nodded. "Yeah, all I can think of, so far."

"I'll make those plans for this weekend, and see you then." Gram made her way out, and I started ruminating on our options.

On the one hand, the thought of being paid for heroism felt… very mercenary. Then again, I didn't want our team to be like I imagined the Wards, with everyone being forced to contribute the same ways, or not at all. I wanted us to have options for the noncombatants, the capes who just wanted to live their lives and have ways to use their powers legally. Like being a Rogue, without having to deal with the stress and lack of safety of being independent. Then again, Rogues were Rogues for a reason. A lot of them were very mercenary. Parian just wanted to have her job, and use her powers to do it. That was fine, but I didn't want that to be the entire team. There were other groups like that, Toybox and the Elite, I thought they were called. I shook my head. Weren't one of those villains?

I groaned and stood up, pacing to help myself think. The non-profit option was the most immediately appealing. It had that heroic mindset, people just helping people to help people, not doing it for the money. That came up against the wall of not being profitable. If a non-profit ran low on money, the only real options were to find investors or beg for donations. It was harder to be proactive and take more risks that way. Add in that if we did manage to get a Tinker, or someone with a power that was good for making money like Parian's, if we had a member who wanted to profit from their powers, we'd either have to jump through extra hoops or have to tell them not to.

Neither of those sounded fantastic at first glance, but neither had the negative gut-reaction that considering making our team a corporate one came with. Corporate Cape teams were often looked down on as being sellouts, and I imagined they had to deal with extra orders from their bosses too. On the other hand, they probably had loads of funding to work with, and fewer strings than the Wards or Protectorate. All three were slaves to the PR engines, but corporate regulations were almost certainly less stifling than the government alternative.

A few minutes' more pacing and all I could decide on was that none of them sounded perfect. I'd have to see what Amy and Dinah thought, and hope they had ideas or opinions that'd help me decide. I shook my head, tired and frustrated, not really wanting to make huge life choices right now. It'd keep until the weekend, at least. With that thought, I headed upstairs, to find Dad scribbling notes in one of his work ledgers. From my brief glance, it looked like hours budgets for various contract jobs.

I hadn't been quiet on my way up the stairs, though. Dad glanced up at me, anxiety and shame spiking in his mood before he looked back down. "Hey, Taylor."

"You didn't cover all the bills." I'd wanted to say something, but hadn't realized that's what was coming out until I'd said it. He winced, and I tried to cover up the slip, make it less an accusation and more a discussion. "The settlement, I mean. I thought that was supposed to cover everything."

He sighed, setting his pen down and closing the book on it. "I… rounded up a little, in negotiating. It's a marketing trick. A dollar feels like a lot more than a penny less, even though it really isn't. Ten thousand feels like a lot more than eight, with the benefit of not being entirely wrong." He rubbed at his face, before waving at the books. "We would have been fine. I make enough that the debt woudn't last more than a few months if I cut back on a few things. I decided that getting you into a good school was more important than a few comforts and prioritizing your new cape stuff." He shook his head. "But then I decided the cape stuff couldn't wait. So I called your grandmother."

"Ah." I hummed. I didn't like the thought of Dad dropping himself into a hole for me, but… I was really enjoying my time at Arcadia. I had friends again, felt like my education mattered again. And for all that she was planning to run a little rough over my schedule, I hadn't minded Gram being around again, so far. "I think… in hindsight, that you made the right choices."

He turned a thin smile my way. "Thanks, honey."

I couldn't ignore it anymore. "Is… something else bothering you, dad?"

His eyes glanced away, and his lips pursed when his jaw tensed in agitation. "I..." he sighed. "I'm sorry. About this morning."

My head tilted, face scrunching slightly in confusion. "Why?"

It took a few moments for him to work himself back to talking. "I made a scene, jumping to conclusions, and… I've been underestimating you." He turned sad eyes back up to mine. "I've had doubts, about your powers, and what you could actually do with them." He took the time to breathe, rubbing at his face again. "Then I saw the news, and…"

Right. News stations didn't show much about the fights, but in cities with power after the Endbringers leave, you still had people recording videos with their phones, or news stations trying to get their stories out, or activists trying to drum up resources and results. I really shouldn't be surprised that he knew at least some of what'd happened, even without me telling him.

"I'm sorry." He said again, breaking into my thoughts.

It hurt a little, that he hadn't believed me. Hadn't taken my words at face value. Then again… "It's okay, dad. I'm not sure I'd believe it either, if it wasn't me."

He heaved a sigh, deep and heavy, and full of relief at my words. I moved over to give him as much of a side-hug as I could, with him still in his seat at his desk. "I'm still sorry." He continued. "I'll try to do better. You're my little girl. Your word should always be good enough for me," He chuckled to himself. "at least when boys aren't involved."

I blushed and swatted at him. "Dad," I whined, drawing out the word. "Ugh." I swatted him again after I groaned, heading out the door and across the hall to my room. He was still smiling and chuckling, though. At least he was over his mood again. I could deal with a little disappointment for his sake.

I got out my homework and powered through as much as I could before dinner. Then I grabbed food and went back to my room, slowly picking away at it some more while I ate. My mind kept wandering back to everything going on, especially the unanswered problems of Lisa and the Undersiders, but after getting frustrated with the thoughts for the third time, I decided it wasn't going to have a good answer until I talked to Amy and Dinah about it. I'd at least feel better if Dinah told me how likely the chances of getting stabbed in the back were.

That decided, and food finished, I sat down on my bed and turned my focus inward. What I needed right now was a few good hours without worrying, so I could get to sleep at a decent time to be up at a reasonable hour tomorrow. I whittled down my options for things to focus on as I went, and eventually settled on training myself to feel and control my energy more. A few hours later, I was starting to have trouble even focusing on that, and went to bed.

My mind slowly dragged its way back to awareness, despite my desire for more sleep. My eyes cracked open and I stared uncomprehending at the blue sky for a moment. Then I focused on the sand under me, clenched my hands until they should've hurt, and finally sat up with an eerily echoing sigh. After everything else I'd forgotten about over the course of yesterday, it didn't surprise me that I'd forgotten all about this same weird dream until now. "This again, huh?" I glanced around, taking in the placid ocean, featureless beach, and silent cut-and-paste island forest. I closed my eyes and slapped myself a few times, managing to feel the blows, but none of the pain. I left my head in my hands while I groaned for a moment, before I looked up again.

There, in the sand half a dozen meters in front of me, were the four pillars from last time. With nothing better to do, I pushed myself to my feet. "Well, might as well get on with it…"

Avatar Taylor (Worm Quest)

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Dalxein

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Threadmarks Chapter 2.5 (The Little Things) New

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Dalxein

Dalxein

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Mar 15, 2020

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#401

FRI FEB 25

The rest of my dream was weird, but not nearly as frustrating as the first one. It seemed like my power was trying to get me to figure out how to metalbend, and it gave me a bunch of low-purity metal shapes to try and control after it had me run through the 'scan the pillars' dance again. I hadn't made much progress by the end, but I was more determined than frustrated after the first thinner sheet I managed to fold over slightly.

It had me wondering if there was anything I could do to help accelerate learning it, but I had a feeling the whole point was to progress up the metal purities, and... nothing we had around the house was made poorly enough for me to actually manipulate it. Even the hammer heads and tools we had were decent steel, which should have been easier than iron because it added a bunch of carbon to the mix, right? I knew I could earthbend things like charcoal, I'd checked. In the end, I just gave it up as hundreds of years of industry getting too good at removing impurities for my current skill level to handle.

I wrote Dad a note to keep an eye out for low quality metals, if he could. He'd still been in bed after I'd gotten up, made breakfast, and had my normal workout. I'd gotten up early, hadn't bothered to rush anything this morning, and still left the house before 7 this morning.

The run was fairly normal, with the addition of me trying to actively stop worrying so much about being ambushed in the mornings. Emma and Sophia were bitches, but they were normal people. Nothing I thought up for how they could actually hurt me made any sense for them to try anymore. I didn't want to think about them, didn't want to worry about them, and didn't have anyone else that might be stalking me come to mind. Everything was perfectly normal until my foot slipped slightly on a turn, and a sharp pain ran up my leg. It wasn't enough to cause me to fall, but I did stumble to a stop and lean down to check it.

After pulling my 'shoes' away and prodding a little, I saw a dark line bisecting the rough callus on the edge of my heel. Gently poking at it got me a shock of pain and a drop of blood on my finger. A quick check of the rest of my foot, followed by the other one, found several other cracks that hadn't quite split through entirely yet. I muttered some curses and started back on my way, keeping off my heels while I looked for a place to hide for a second. Once I did, I took the time to heal the cut where the slight glow wouldn't attract attention in the relative darkness of the early morning, and finished my run to school.

My entire time in the shower was spent pondering the problem, since my healing wouldn't let me mend things like the two halves of a hunk of dead skin, just the living skin under it, which still left a weakened section prone to splitting again. In the end, I decided to just ask Amy for help. Once my shower was over, I headed straight to the cafeteria. I didn't see Amy or Vicky, but it was only a matter of time before they showed up. I set up to pick away at some more homework and waited.

It was almost 8 by the time I noticed people popping up in my senses who hadn't been there before. A quick bit of attention showed it was in fact Vicky and Amy, and I packed my stuff up again before they got in. I hopped to my feet when I saw them in person, and moved to intercept them. "Amy!"

They moved to meet me after that. "What's up?" She asked.

I leaned in a little closer. "I need help with something." I started to whisper shyly after that. "It's a little personal..."

She stared for a couple seconds before sighing and loudly proclaiming, "Fine, yes, I'll help fix your period cramps."

Vicky snorted, but managed to prevent herself from devolving into giggles. Others around the cafeteria weren't nearly so restrained. I blushed and spluttered a bit, before hissing, "That's not what..." and screeching out a frustrated groan. I grabbed her by the hand and dragged her out somewhere more private, while Vicky finally broke down at whatever Amy's waving and face-making meant. I wasn't paying enough attention to actually read her lips, at the moment.

When we were alone, I turned and huffed frustratedly at her. "It's not period cramps."

She hummed, and I could feel she was incredibly amused, and trying to hide it. "You know, I really, legally need a doctor and parent to sign off on abortions, right?"

I blushed even harder, my throat letting out a keening shriek as I tried to keep myself from yelling at her. It took a moment for the urge to pass and the tension to fade, but I still raised my voice perhaps too high when I replied. "AMY!"

That finally had her break down in snorting chuckles. "The look on your face..." She shook her head and took a couple deeper breaths. "I know it's not that, I just touched you, remember? So what's actually wrong?" She was smirking, felt amused, happy, a little concerned... I had to force myself to remember that little jibes and pranks like that were a facet of normal, healthy friendships.

"I... split my heel this morning." She felt confused, so I showed her. "I healed it, but I couldn't fix everything, and I'm not sure what to do about it. You were the first thing I thought of."

Her emotions transitioned to feeling relieved and indignant. "Yeah, I can fix that." She held out her hand, and I took it. "Not everything needs a superpowered solution, though. I honestly thought it was a feminine problem, at first."

I shook my head. "Nah, it's weird. I still need pads, but I haven't had an issue with cramps since I..." I paused, a slightly pained wince at the thought of what'd happened. "Since the locker."

Her eyes met mine, silently glaring and judging. I think she'd even paused in her healing to stare for a few seconds. "You lucky bitch..." She muttered as she turned back to looking vaguely down at my feet.

Oh yeah, she was jealous. "Sorry... I'm hoping it's just a Brute thing, but I've heard recent trauma and intense stress can mess with them, too." Amy hummed in response. "So, you can fix cramps?"

"Oh, sure." Amy shrugged. "It's kind of a thing, these days. I usually do it, as long as they put up with me giving them shit about it." Ahh, that explained the cafeteria a bit more. "I've actually got Vicky's mostly turned off right now. Kara too, now that I think about it."

I goggled a bit, "Wait, really?"

She snorted. "Oh, yeah. Vicky was a high-cramp heavy-flow girl before I got my powers, then she asked me to fix her, and kept asking, and it got annoying relaxing her muscles every few hours, so I just asked her if she wanted them gone." She shrugged and shook her head. "Tweaking it that much changed some things though, and she had a few missed period scares... eventually I just turned her cycle off, and she's been happier ever since." She grimaced a bit, probably remembering Vicky and her boyfriend... yeah I'd probably take advantage of that too, if I found a boy who liked me and wasn't just using me. "Kara found out and wanted me to make her..." She took her hand back and lifted them into the air, hands forming claw shapes as she gave a gigantic fake grin. "'impregnable! Nyahaha'..." Her face shifted back to its natural glower and she rolled her eyes, taking my hand again. It'd actually been a pretty good impression, I thought. "If she actually fucked boys, I would've told her to use a condom like everyone else, but..."

Yeah, with her history and some of the things she's said... I really didn't blame her for wanting to be sure. "Thanks, for that."

She shrugged and went back to her tweaking. "There we go, should be done."

I lifted my feet up, and... eww, most of the dead skin from the calluses had stayed on the floor, just little bits still clinging, or caught on my shoes. I shook both of my feet out and stepped away from the little pile, staring at it and shuddering. My feet felt... weird without them, the skin much thinner, more supple, less rigid... honestly much more sensitive too. It felt like the easy range my senses usually sat at had gone up a bit. Focusing farther away wasn't taking as much effort.

"You don't want me to do gross things, stop asking me to do gross things." She sniped, drawing my attention away. The pile of dead me didn't seem to bother her any, but I'm sure she'd seen worse.

I shook my head and shuddered again. "Right, right. Thank you, Amy."

She shook her head and sighed again. "You know, you're gonna' need to be a lot less squeamish if you want to be a healer." She waved at it. "If this is enough to bother you, you wouldn't last a day in the ER's waiting room, let alone actually helping people."

I sucked in a deeper breath and nodded. "I know, I'll work on it... when it's not me..." I shuddered again. Amy rolled her eyes and called me a wuss, before heading back toward the cafeteria. She probably still needed food, if she'd gone to the hospital this morning like she said she would, yesterday.

When we got there, she waved at Vicky's table, calling out when we were a little closer. "Vicky! Kara!" She paused, raising her arm into the air as she let me catch up. When I stopped curiously next to her, the arm curled and her finger pointed down at me from above, not looking very comfortable at all to manage with someone taller than her like I was. "Foot Care Bootcamp." She yelled.

I froze, the words sending a thrill of sheer terror lancing up my spine. I glanced from Amy, barely keeping herself from grinning and ruining her stern countenance, to the two at the table, who were grinning at each other now. I could feel how giddy they were, as they hopped to their feet to head our way. I turned back to Amy as she lowered her arm and rolled her shoulder.

"Amy," I said, letting the pain of betrayal flood into my words. "I thought we were friends."

She snorted. "They're probably going to drag me along shopping at the girly goop stores, too. But I'm willing to take that bullet for you." She leaned closer and narrowed her eyes. "Oh best friend of mine."

"...This is for that time I didn't get you out of shopping, isn't it?"

She shook her head. "The fact that you think there's only one thing I'm getting you back for means my vengeance will be eternal and unending."

"Those mean the same thi-" My words were interrupted as the girls finally got to us, both of them grabbing one of my arms as they frog-marched me back to their table. I glared back at Amy, who gave me one of those small finger-flutter waves before heading for the breakfast line.

"Taylor you should've told me-" "If I knew you needed help-" "-don't worry, we know what to do-" "-you'll be okay dear, we're the experts-" "-trust us, we're professionals!" I let out a pained groan of suffering as the pair chattered away in both of my ears, making it hard to understand them. Vicky wasn't bothering to hold her aura in completely, and forcing myself to ignore it wasn't helping my concentration any.

When they had me seated, and took their own, they turned their attention on me. "Now Taylor," Kara started.

"honey," Vicky chimed in.

"sweetie,"

"tell us everything you know about foot care." Vicky finished, and I could feel them low-five under the table.

I stared at them, uncomprehending, until it wasn't just me sweating. "Taylor," Kara started again, slowly. "you do know something about proper foot care, right?"

"I... moisturize whenever I shave, and wash between my toes?" I tried.

At this point, Vicky'd covered her mouth with one hand, trying not to look alarmed. "Oh, no." She muttered.

Kara turned her own wide eyes to her friend. "Vicky..."

"Can't talk, plotting murder." The hero replied in a low monotone.

She rolled her eyes and tried again. "Vicky!"

Victoria huffed and nodded. "I mean, I know your mom is dead, but seriously someone should have taught you all this."

Kara punched her in the shoulder, and it was a testament to the girl's fortitude that the loud crack that failed to budge the hero didn't leave her in a pained and crying heap. Vicky pretended not to notice, but I could feel her aura flicker and fade to a minimum. "Vicky, it's not her fault." She turned to me. "Taylor, we're not mad at you. We're not disappointed with you, but basic self-care is pretty essential, and we are going to need the names of those friends you used to have..." It hadn't felt great when Vicky brought up mom, but Kara pointing the negativity Emma's way helped significantly to offset my rapidly worsening mood. She slapped at Vicky again when the girl started giggling in a distinctly unheroic manner. "later, but for now, I think we need to schedule a spa day."

My mind stuttered to a halt. "A what?"

"Spaaaaaa daaaaay~" The words sounded like a prayer to some elder terror, and I shuddered. The way the rest of the girls started chittering to themselves quietly about it didn't help any. "Tay, what's wrong?" She asked softly, and I could tell she was worried.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. "Don't spa days involve getting naked, having your hands and feet pinned down so they can get operated on, and then getting fondled by some burly masseuse at the end?" I was trying to remember the last time I'd gone, with Emma. I'd done my best to bury the memory along with the rest, good or bad.

The little conversations around ground to a halt, everyone staring at me. All of them were either horrified of my admittedly embellished description, or looking at me like I was stupid. Kara and Vicky shared a worried glance, before they turned back. "First off," Kara held up her hand, finger extended. "towels are a thing. Second, we all-" she indicated herself, Vicky, and me. "-kinda kick ass, even naked. No one's going to be able to do anything you don't want them to." She held the hand up again, three fingers this time. "Also, masseurs are men. Masseuse is for women, usually not the burly butch types. You get your pick, including 'none'. Usually more of an optional extra, in my experience."

Vicky was nodding along. "There's lots of options, but unless you get a pricey package deal, most of it is 'pay per' for what you do want."

I hadn't been involved in that side of things, last time. I think one of our moms covered it. "Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just... the last time..." I shook my head. They glanced at each other, then back to me, with soft eyes and placating smiles.

"If you really don't want to, we don't have to." Kara said softly. "I was thinking it would help to see some of this done professionally, but..." She shook her head, "sometimes the best way to move on, is to make new memories, with new friends."

Vicky took Kara's hand and nodded vigorously, with a wide supportive smile. They probably would've grabbed at me, if I hadn't been on the other side of the table. I smiled and nodded. The girls had themselves a little cheer, as Amy came back from getting breakfast. She took one look at them, then raised an eyebrow at me.

"Apparently, we're having a spa day." I replied to her silent question.

"We?" She asked hesitantly, tremors of agitation flowing into her.

I quirked a brow at Vicky, who grinned wider. "We!" She cheered. "No getting out of this one, sis!"

Amy closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath through her nose almost hard enough to snort the air. Then she glared at me. "Eternal. Vengeance." She growled.

I broke down into giggles at that. Amy huffed, but sat down next to me. We spent the rest of our time before class discussing the options at the local spa they went to sometimes, in the commercial sector near the Towers. Most of them seemed silly to me; if I wanted aromatherapy I'd buy candles, and hot rocks to soothe aches I could easily manage myself... things like that didn't interest me. They were insisting on a pedicure, and the sauna did sound nice... I wasn't sure about facemasks or wraps, and the mud or salt baths were a hard why, even though I didn't shoot them down outright.

They seemed to have fun planning it, though.

As I made my way to lunch, I wondered who I should hang out with today. Tracy I'd dropped in on yesterday, and I'd see her later today anyway. Vicky, Kara, and Amy I'd had breakfast with, and was also going to see them later. I wasn't sure if Vicky was going to show up, but I wouldn't be surprised at this point. I briefly considered trying to find Carlos, Serei, Susan, or any of my other loose acquaintances, before I dismissed that, too. I wasn't sure if I wanted to pursue any of those friendships, yet.

No, in the end I decided to see if Cassie was busy. If nothing else, I could see if she wanted to come to the training today. Even if she was busy, I always had Vicky's table to fall back to. Plan set, I focused more closely on the figures I could feel with my senses. The freshman usually got to the cafeteria first, since their classes were all on the first floor, too. A lot of the upper years skipped the lunchroom entirely, walking to the nearby restaurants or driving a bit farther off. The younger years ostensibly weren't allowed off campus during school hours, but that was one of those rules that only seemed to be enforced on students who were already in trouble for something.

I found Cass before I got to the room, hanging out at their table having not bothered with the line yet. When I got in, I glanced over to check on her. I was briefly confused before I realized what'd changed. She didn't seem like the hair dye sort of girl, but after a moment I realized the colors combined with her long feathery hairstyle suited her. She'd gone with a dark blue-purple for most of it, with some bright red on the longest of her hair, underneath the rest. It was a bit of a messy job, but she was a bit of a messy person, once you got to know her a little. Overall, I thought it was a good look for her.

I meandered toward the line, wondering why the thought of those particular colors were nagging at my brain a little, before I stopped. I barely noticed the people behind me bumping into me and bouncing off, paying them no mind as they glanced warily at me before parting around me. I'd turned my wide eyes on Cassie, inspecting her with all of my senses. The same figure, the same pouty lips, the same colored hair... the voice had sounded familiar too, now that I thought about it.

Cassie was Rune.

So much made more sense now, despite how much I wished it didn't.

I dug out my phone and sent her a text. She fished hers out and looked at it, curious, then wary. Her eyes panned across the room until she found mine, and winced under my glare.

'We need to talk' indeed, miss Rune.

She nodded, and motioned for the food lines. I kept glaring for a moment before I nodded. We might as well get food, since we were here. I hopped into the line first, keeping a laser focus on her with my senses as I made my way through. I waited for her by the pay stations, and she caught up about a minute later.

"Not here." I don't think I completely held the growl out of my voice, but she seemed more resigned than scared at this point, nodding along wearily. I led the way first to the stairs, then to one of the senior classrooms I could tell was uninhabited. As far from the flow and press of people as we could get without leaving school, while also being private.

I tossed my tray onto a desk, almost careless enough to spill something. She set hers down and wandered a bit. I turned and leveled another glare her way after she shut the door behind us. "You're Rune."

She nodded. "And you're Terraform."

I bristled at her statement. "How did you...?" I snapped, before clamping my jaw shut and shaking my head. She probably figured me out the same way I did her, too many similarities clicking just the right way. "How long have you known?"

"Since the fight, with Victor and Othala, and Amy." She stated clearly. She was walling herself off emotionally, trying to drive herself numb. I could still feel flares of trepidation underneath, but she was like a girl walking herself to the gallows. She didn't expect this to end well, and was preparing for it to hurt. I swallowed thickly, and some of my rage petered down. It couldn't hurt if she didn't care. At least there was that small point in favor of her having actually been my friend.

"And what have you done?" I was still angry, but my voice was cold. "Have you told anyone?"

She shook her head. "No, I haven't said anything." Her voice, by contrast, sounded dead. "I don't think anyone knows, but Victor's not stupid. He might have put it together by now."

I heaved out a groan, dropping into a nearby seat and rubbing at my face. "Such a fucking mess..." I grumbled. I glared at her again. "How? Why!?" I snapped, my hands clawing in the air between us as if I could drag the answers out of her.

She plopped down into one of the other seats and gave a sad, lost chuckle. "Remember my family?" She waited until I nodded. "The Herren clan. One of the biggest gang families in the States. We've got capes, and manpower... but that's about it. It takes a lot of money to arm that many people, feed them, keep them out of prison, keep them loyal." She shook her head. "So we got shipped up here to join the Empire. Empire gets capes and soldiers, Clan gets money and guns." That didn't feel quite right, but it didn't ping as an outright lie. Cass shook her head. "At this point? I'm pretty sure we were just cheaper than the European alternatives." She glanced my way, and saw I was still staring stonily at her. She sighed and continued. "Me? They told me how great the opportunity was, convinced me to volunteer." She spat. "I was excited to get out, make a name for myself... fight 'the good fight'." She shook her head, a spike of disgust flowing through her. "I wanted to kill people, because I didn't see them as people."

"And that's changed?"

My eyes narrowed as she glanced away, hesitantly. "Yeah." She glanced up and caught me glaring. She repeated it, more confidently. "Yeah, it's changing."

I supposed a work in progress was better than she used to be. I sighed and pawed my face again, groaning into my palms. "So, what now?" I wasn't sure what I could do. The Rules would dictate I do nothing and trust her to do the same, and there being a Truce on kind of hindered any plans to try and bring her in for her crimes, anyway. That said, I didn't feel like I could just pretend I didn't know.

She hesitated, glancing away again. I could tell she was debating with herself, conflicted and wary, frustrated and fretful. She didn't seem to know what to think, so I turned back to my tray. I wasn't hungry, as stressed as I was feeling, but I knew I needed food. I started shoveling food in, barely tasting it, angrily chewing away and occasionally glaring at Rune. I stopped after I'd destroyed a good third of my food, finally clearing my mouth again to speak. "Were we ever really friends?" She winced, a small thing, her heart and breathing picking up in response to the aggressive tone I used. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

Cass nodded, "I was, and… we are." She didn't feel confident in her answers, but didn't seem like she was trying to lie. "I just… wanted to wait a bit. So it wouldn't be like this." She motioned between us. My glare softened considerably. I suppose that wasn't a terrible reason. "After yesterday…" She shook her head and muttered, "never mind."

I wasn't going to let her stop at that. I needed to know. I bit down my emotional response and tried to sound just curious. "No, what is it?"

She glanced back at me, and I wasn't sure I hid my determination to ferret out secrets that might affect me nearly as well as I'd intended, from the wary confusion she was feeling. She took almost half a minute to think and work herself back up to speaking. "I don't want to stay with the Empire." She swallowed thickly after she managed to get that out, and the words started flowing again. "I was hoping, after seeing everything you can do, that you'd help me get away and stay that way. I didn't expect you to wise up and figure me out this fast, though. Not after weeks of..." She shook her head, and stopped before she could shove her foot deeper into her mouth.

In hindsight, it did feel pretty obvious that Cassie was Rune. I couldn't be sure how much of that was it actually being obvious, or me feeling stupid about it, yet. Still... "You wanted to wait until we were better friends, so that I'd want to help you." She nodded, and I felt a spike of rage lance through me. I grit my teeth a bit as I said, "I don't like being used."

"I wasn't..." She snapped, then paused, shaking her head. "I didn't want to trick you into helping me. I wanted to earn your trust, earn your help." We glared at each other for a few seconds before I glanced away. That did sound like how normal friendships were supposed to work. Instead of feeling smug or victorious at winning our stare-down like I expected, Cass just felt relieved. "If you don't want to help me, that's fine. I'll figure something out." She got up and moved to sit herself down where she'd set her food and started eating.

It was times like this I wished I could just call Dinah to solve all my problems. I didn't know if our lunch times matched up though, or whether she was busy. She was happier, seemed more outgoing. I didn't want to pull her away from friends she might just be making for my problems, especially when I could just ask tomorrow. I glanced over at Cassie, who was starting to stab at her food a bit. She was getting frustrated, not liking how this was turning out, but not pushing me for more despite that. She was anxious, worried... but seemed determined. She really would just try on her own, from what I could tell. "Hey," I said, and she threw her hair and looked sharply my way. Intense, but not glaring. "I need to talk to some people. Ask for more opinions. It's not just me." Her eyes narrowed in thought, cold and calculating. Probably assuming I had a team, or that I was going to spread her name around, but she didn't speak up to stop me. "But, I'm not going to say I won't help, yet."

She kept up the stare for a bit, then glanced down and nodded. "Thanks." She turned back to her food, still anxious and frustrated, but it seemed to have stopped building higher for the moment.

A few minutes later, when my food was almost gone, I sighed. I couldn't just leave things sitting like that, but everything I thought to say just sounded so awkward. In the end I decided it was just going to have to be, sucked it up, and talked. "So, are we... still trying to be friends?"

Cass gave me a gimlet eye, quirking her brow and pursing her lips. She was trying not to smile, and keeping herself from laughing at me. I knew I sounded ridiculous, and could tell she thought so, too. Still, she chuffed and shook her head, a small smirk forcing its way onto her face. "Yeah, Taylor. We're still doing the friend thing."

I let out a small sigh of relief, at that. I liked Cassie. For all that she was a crass bigot most of the time, there was something about her that felt weirdly magnetic and familiar. I shook my head, deciding to ponder that later. "So did you want to drop by the gym after school? The martial arts practice?"

She rolled her eyes, but nodded. "Yeah, I'll go. No promises on staying, though. Your other 'friends' aren't really fond of me, and my 'boss' might have a job." She patted her pocket, with her phone.

I hummed. Nothing I could do about Kaiser right now, but... "That sounds fair. Let me worry about them." I wasn't sure if her emphasis was for Amy and Vicky, or Kara's group. For all I knew, it was both. Cass let out an unsure affirmation in response, but otherwise dropped the topic in favor of her food.

When we were done, she checked her phone. She'd been ignoring it in favor of our conversation, but that didn't stop people from messaging her. Cass grimaced, and put it away. "I should go. Need to keep a lid on some shit." She got up and headed to the door.

I glanced back at our trays, and stopped her. "Hey, you heading to the cafeteria?"

She glanced back and I held up my tray. She eyed her own like it'd betrayed her, and I couldn't help but feel she'd forgotten all about it. "Sure, yeah." She scooped hers up, and I slotted mine into it when she held it out. "See you at the gym?"

"Yup. See you then." I gave her a little wave as she left, then watched her dig her phone out again and start grumbling at it, with my feet.

There was still about a third of our lunch period left, but none of the options I could think of for something to do sounded nearly as good as taking some time to decompress after that conversation. I headed to my next classroom early, and sat down to meditate.

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Threadmarks Chapter 2.6 (Baby Steps) New

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FRI FEB 25

After thinking on it for the rest of the school day, I decided that what I liked about Cassie was probably the same things I'd liked about Emma, when we'd first started hanging out. Outgoing, confident, opinionated... Cass felt like she knew who she was, as a more whole and complete person than I felt like, a lot of the time. I'd looked up to Emma for the same reason.

That left me feeling conflicted, but also had me re-evaluating my various relationships through this new lens. I think I was... envious, at least a little. I had days when I didn't feel like a person. When I didn't feel real. It was better lately, especially with how my life has been looking up since I left Winslow behind... but it was pretty clear I'd been depressed. Might still be depressed.

I shook my head. Those were thoughts for later, whenever I got around to looking up therapists. The point was, I was surrounding myself with people who felt like people, because I wanted to feel like they did. Or at least, how I'd imagined they did. I could feel their emotions, but I couldn't tell if they felt... valid, the way I didn't right now.

I was heading to the gym, going through the motions to get me where I said I'd be. I wasn't sure what'd set off my mood. Maybe yesterday was finally sinking in, or maybe the latest Emma realization sent me into a funk. It could be both, or neither for all I knew. Yeah, therapy was starting to sound pretty nice, if moods like this were the alternative.

While my melancholic gait was functional, it was slow. I found Kara and Amy waiting for me, when I got there. They led me around the balcony above the courts, instead of to the stairs. Apparently, now that we'd shown the teachers we really were going to be a weekly meeting, we warranted having one of the free rooms lining the gym to ourselves. The other girls- and a couple of boys- were setting out mats when we got there. It wasn't the full number we'd had last week though, and Cass wasn't here yet. I could tell she hadn't left the school, though.

It was getting easier to keep my attention on people, even when I didn't have to. I didn't lose track of what I was doing, or what I was thinking, the information just... there, since I hadn't really let go of it like I used to do instinctively. Tracy was downstairs, talking to one of the coaches. Vicky looked like she'd just shown up, talking to a boy I thought was probably Dean. I'd tagged a few people specifically while I'd been in class with them, and I'd just known what they were up to, until they left the block or two around the school. I'd have to experiment next week, during class.

"So," I broke the quiet chatter in the room as everyone's attention drew itself to me. "I don't think everyone's here yet?" Amy shrugged and Kara shook her head. "I think we can wait a bit, then." I mostly just wanted to give Cassie time to show up before I was busy teaching. "How has everyone been?"

And like that, the floodgates opened. I'd said it more to be polite and invite others to fill a silence I didn't feel motivated to fix on my own, than out of any real curiosity. So I waited, listening to them talk about their weeks. A few of them had overlapping stories, and cut in playfully. My chest ached slightly at the easy friendships on display, despite having two of my own best friends right here with me. Emotions were stupid, I decided.

Susan's week was fairly boring, aside from cheer practice, she was the studyholic sort. She was reading some new fantasy book though, despite seeming more like a sci-fi girl. I wound up actually talking to her the most while we waited, swapping book recommendations instead of just listening and occasionally chiming in like I'd been doing.

Girls I recognized continued trickling in; Erika, Abby, Millie... I also saw someone I hadn't been expecting, at this point. I kept the surprise off my face until Vicky tapped at the door frame and cheerfully called, "Knock knock!"

"Vicky?" I asked, turning back to her and the three others following after. Dean wasn't a surprise with his girlfriend involved, but Carlos was, and I didn't recognize the younger girl with them. "I didn't think you were coming?"

She floated over, coming in for one of those neck-hugs busty girls seemed to default to. "Oh, it just took a bit, waiting for people to catch up." She motioned back to the others. "You know Dean, and this is Carlos, and Missy." She seemed to hesitate, though she was still floating, so I couldn't sense her emotions. "Dean knows her from somewhere." She finished lamely.

The girl glared at Vicky, while Dean chuckled. "Yeah, somewhere." He supplied. Carlos looked very much like he wanted to sigh or palm his face, but forced himself not to.

"Hey, Dean. Hello again, Carlos." I forced a pleasant smile to my face to greet them. Then I turned to the girl. "And it's nice to meet you, Missy. This is supposed to mostly be self-defense for girls, so it's good to have you here." I looked around, focused more on my senses than the room. "Just waiting for another couple people who said they'd be here, then we'll get started."

Tracy came up from downstairs and folded herself into the group with fake smiles and chipper greetings. Then the person I'd really been waiting on showed up.

"What's she doing here?" Vicky sniped from across the room. Amy was silent, but her eyes were hard, seeming to agree with her sister. Kara's gaze was more calculating, but certainly wasn't a warm one.

I sighed, hoping everyone would pretend not to notice was too much to ask, it seemed. "I invited her."

"But…" Vicky sputtered, confused. A ripple of disapproval and agitation flowed through most of those already gathered at my assertion. "She's…" She clammed up, not quite to the point of shouting 'Empire' at Arcadia, where it seemed to be a faux-pas. Instead, I felt her aura start leaking out. Cass winced, her emotions smothered under a wave of terror. "You shouldn't be here."

"Vicky, aura." I said, firmly. I could feel the awe trying to press into my mind, but I ignored it. She turned to me, the awe briefly shifting to fear. All that did was turn my stern look into a glare, as I kept ignoring it. She grimaced as the aura faded, seeming to realize all flaring it would do was turn me against her. "I know you don't like her, and have reasons for that." This time Cass flinched a little, looking my way and hiding the flash of indignation and betrayal she was feeling. "But she's changing. Right?" I turned to Carlos, who was looking on sternly. His emotions were muted, the effect familiar, but not my current focus. He glanced away without agreeing. I turned to the crowd, where I spotted Serei looking on, outwardly ambivalent and inwardly conflicted. "Right?" She glanced to the side, but nodded. I turned back to Vicky, who was still angry, but the intensity of it had died down. "You're my friend, but so is she. I don't want to spark off fights just because I wanted to spend time with my friends." I could tell she wasn't convinced. "Look at her." I indicated my hand toward Cassie's face, head, and hair. "She's trying." I had told her she could come, and that I'd vouch for her. I still felt a little leery about our friendship, but if she did want to prove it, earn my trust, then I couldn't just push her away whenever it felt convenient. I had to put in some effort, too. Vicky still didn't seem convinced, biting her lip and deep in thought. Amy was still watching, just as disapproving as she'd felt when Cass had come in, but wasn't speaking up against her. We'd already had an argument about Cassie, I assumed this was an extension of that. Amy either trusting me to be right, or to make my own mistakes.

Kara sighed. "Are you sure?" She asked me, and I nodded. She shook her head. "Vicky." When she turned, Kara flicked her head off to the side, out the door. Vicky felt confused, but nodded and followed her out. It wasn't exactly private, but with the sounds from the court below, a hushed conversation was still pretty hard to overhear.

"Sorry about this," I said to the group. "We'll be starting soon. Anyone not here last week who hasn't had some sort of training or practice fighting before?" It seemed only a couple girls counted there, and I gave a short summary of what we'd worked on last week while watching my friends argue quietly outside. About a minute after they left, they came back in.

"Okay, we're good." Kara said, nodding to me, and then her girls. They seemed confused, but tension started flowing out of them with their nominal leader's acceptance of the situation.

"Thank you." With that solved, I turned to the crowd. "Alright, sorry about that. We're going to start now. Amy?" I called her up, and she came over to join me. Kara and Vicky joined the small crowd, near the center. Cass moved over to the edge, part of, but still apart from, the group. She got a few wary glances, but no one spoke up about her presence. "This is going to be very similar to last week. We're going to go over falls, then strikes, to make sure everyone knows how to not hurt themselves. Then we'll spend most of the time working on common grapples and how to get out of them." I couldn't help but notice a small ripple of disappointment through the group, especially prevalent in young Missy. Most were quick to shift to acceptance, though. "Amy?" We moved back into the old dance, where she'd throw me in various ways, and I'd demonstrate falls.

After the demonstration, we split up again. Kara took a third group, and we all took the girls through it, one at a time. I paid careful attention to the newcomers with my senses, despite also devoting my full attention to whoever I was working with. It was actually starting to scare me a little bit, that I didn't understand what was going on with that. The hardest part was convincing Vicky to stop flying, so she'd learn the skill in case she ever couldn't for some reason. Speaking of, it seemed the three she'd brought were doing fairly well. They obviously had training, and I was impressed by how well Missy handled herself, despite her size and apparent age. She honestly just felt bored and underwhelmed, to my senses.

When we switched to strikes, I decided to try and do something about it. "Hey, Missy. Come up here?" The girl was confused, and didn't like being singled out. She felt out of place, but she also seemed to know these skills better than most of the group. If my guess was right, she was one of those girls who felt driven because she'd been left out, and wound up worse off for having passed everyone up. Like Sue'd said about me, the runt trying extra hard because she had to. Now to test the theory... I knelt down in front of her, balancing on the balls of my feet, to put her height above mine. Her irritation flared, fury and indignation sparking to life as her face tensed to prevent herself from sneering at me. I didn't have to fake my satisfied grin. "Okay, now I want you to punch me."

She reminded me of myself, when I was going through that phase. I think I was eight or nine, always insisting I was big now, and grown up. Mom put a stop to it, when we were driving home one day. We'd taken a trip to Boston, and were on the highway back to Brockton. I honestly couldn't remember what I'd said to set her off, but she just smiled and told me that if I was such a big girl, I should start doing big girl things. So she'd sat me in her lap and started the car driving again, before letting me have control of the wheel. To this day, I was still a little scared of driving, after feeling terrified I was going to cause a crash. In hindsight, there was probably very little danger. The highway was pretty clear even for a weekday, she still had control over the gas and brakes, and her hands probably never strayed far from the wheel. Her goal was pretty obvious, either I'd start learning an important skill early, or I'd shut up about wanting to do things I was well too young or small for, for a while. Mom was great, but she was intense sometimes.

Missy blinked, surprised. I just kept kneeling, resting my arms on my thighs and smiling at her. Her frustration flared again, and if I hadn't been waiting for it, I might've missed the punch she threw. It was a good one; brought up, cocked in the same motion, and slung toward my jaw in less than a second. To her surprise, I caught her fist in my hand anyway, grinning harder.

"That was very good form." I said honestly, dropping her hand and stretching to my full height again. I took the time to theatrically dust my pants, before I turned my smile back on her. "You know, my mom used to say that the best way to learn, was to teach. She was a professor at the university." I shook my head and gave a wistful sigh. "Anyway, what do you say? Want to give it a try?"

She still seemed shocked, glancing around a little while she processed the question. Then a giddy feeling started bubbling up from inside her, and she smiled. "Sure!"

I shooed her off to Amy and Kara, turning to catch Carlos' oddly intense stare. His emotions were still hard to read, and if my guess was right... the effect felt familiar because he was Aegis. It didn't seem that strange that a teen hero would feel protective of the youngest person in the room. I flicked my head up a little to acknowledge him, then brought my hand to my face while Missy was still turned away. I pointed at my eyes, then at Missy's back with both fingers, nodding to him.

He seemed surprised, then determined. He nodded back. He'd help me keep an eye on her, then. I gave the demonstration for how to- and not to- throw a punch, then the group split up again, into quarters this time. We made sure the smallest of the girls went to Missy, just so the height difference from teacher to student would be mitigated, and she didn't seem to mind that reasoning. Strikes didn't take long to go over, so we moved on.

Grapples were the important part of the lesson. We demonstrated the most common ways someone might grab someone else, assuming attackers with both no skill or limited training. I didn't want to go into well trained attackers at this point, mostly to avoid demoralizing anyone. We split up again, and I ran Missy through the exercises first to make sure she had them down. She didn't get her own group to teach this time, but after proving she knew her stuff, I promised she'd help teach later. We spent a good half an hour after letting the group pair off just making sure everyone had a chance to practice properly. Then I made good on my promise and had Missy take the students who still wanted to practice strikes off to the side. This included Carlos, which I assumed was to make keeping an eye on her easier. Kara took falls practice this week, while Amy helped me with the large number of grapplers.

About an hour later, we called it for the day. The teachers were showered with praise as people packed up the mats and their stuff to leave, either to hit the showers or head home. I got a few phone numbers as people left- or checks to see if their numbers were already in my phone thanks to Kara and Vicky- Carlos' among them. Eventually it was just a few of us left, and Cassie had to leave too.

"Apparently, I have an appointment." She'd said indignantly, after a few minutes checking her phone while the crowd thinned from the room. She waved, and headed out. I tried not to worry about her, since she'd been at this for a year or so already.

After that it was just the Dallons, Missy, Kara, and a few of Kara's girls, most notably her girlfriend Mandy. Missy was confused about what was going on with Cassie, but aside from that didn't seem to care about our drama. "I had a lot of fun. Way more than I expected." She said, brightly. Then she gave me her phone number. "This is every Friday, right?" When we answered affirmatively, she nodded and smiled again. "I think I'll drop by when I can."

That changed our departing sentiments to 'see you next week's rather than generic 'see you later's. With her gone, Vicky started wondering whether or not to try and drop in on a Wards patrol or something.

"Aaactually..." I muttered, catching everyone's attention. "I kinda'... have something to talk to you about." I glanced over to Kara and grimaced as apologetically as I could. "...with Amy."

Kara held up her hands and smiled. "Say no more." And led her cadre out.

Vicky was glancing in confusion between me and Amy. Then her eyes widened. "You know it's okay with me if you're gay, right?" She asked bluntly, causing Amy to blush cutely and grumble-cuss far less cutely.

From the roaring guffaws outside the door, Kara hadn't been quite out of earshot yet, when she asked that.

I glared at Vicky and she winced, smiling sheepishly. "I'm not gay." I muttered darkly, rubbing at my face. She opened her mouth to say something else, and I snapped a quick, "No." causing her mouth to click shut.

"Sooo... what's it about, then?" She asked, fidgeting a bit.

"I'm... uhh." I glanced around the room. No one would bother bugging a regular school gym room, right? I moved over to the door and shut it, before motioning them to follow me to the far end of the room. I had her lean in close, and whispered, "I'm a cape."

Vicky backed off half a foot back and into the air, watching me closely for a moment before glancing to Amy, who looked distinctly unsurprised. "You knew?" Her eyes darted between us a couple times, before they widened. "She's Terra." She whispered, and we gave small nods to confirm it.

"I... kinda' want to talk about it, but not here." I shook my head, thinking for a moment. "Maybe at home?"

Vicky nodded, then snorted. "That's why you weren't worried about me pulling your arm off, isn't it?" I smirked a little and nodded, to which she chuckled and shook her head. "Well, I've got the car today. Gotta take it home anyway." I had no problem with that, so we headed down to let one of the coaches know we were done with the room, then made our way out to the car.

The ride was pretty quiet, with Vicky thinking and focused on the road. Amy was checking her phone to distract herself from the worry I could tell she was feeling, while I was trying to push my own into a dark corner of my mind where I could ignore it. I still couldn't sense very well through all the jiggling and tires, so I was as surprised as they were when we found a fairly nice car that didn't look like Gram's driver in the driveway already.

We parked on the curb, and hopped out. The second my feet were on the ground, I could tell that Dad was in the kitchen, along with another man. They were talking, ignoring the coffee mugs on the table in favor of a pair of beer bottles. Both were agitated, worried, frustrated... but the other man was a mess of anxious sorrow and fear as well. After a moment, I shook myself. If I hadn't figured it out yet, I probably wouldn't before I just went in and asked.

I led the sisters into the house, and heard Dad say, "That'll be Taylor." and the other man seemed to sigh and sag with relief.

"Hey, Dad." I said as we rounded the corner. "What's wrong?"

It was then that I recognized the man sitting at the table with Dad as a rather anxious and unkempt Alan Barnes. Dad seemed oblivious to my sudden irrational spike of terror. "Honey, have you seen Emma, lately?"

Avatar Taylor (Worm Quest)

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Threadmarks Chapter 2.7 (Temper) New

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Mar 29, 2020

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#427

FRI FEB 25

I took a step back as my mind cascaded through worst-case scenarios. Was Emma here? Was she missing? Was she dead? Had she decided she couldn't hurt me anymore, and killed herself, framing me for it as one final middle finger digging into the old wounds she'd inflicted over the past two years? My senses roved the blocks around, my mind picking out anything that looked vaguely like a female human and checking it against what I remembered of the trio. I couldn't find them.

"Taylor? Are you okay?" Dad asked, snapping me back to the present.

"I… what?" I muttered. He was worried, and so were Amy and Vicky. They'd come up beside me, hands comfortingly resting on my arm and shoulder.

Dad wasn't sure what was going on, but pressed on. "Have you heard from Emma, lately? I know that with the move to Arcadia you'd see her less often, but…"

I shook my head. "No, I…" I didn't want to think about Emma. I'd wanted to just put all of Winslow behind me. I hadn't lied to dad, but… I hadn't wanted to talk about it. I guess that wasn't an option, anymore. "Emma… hasn't been my friend since before Winslow, dad."

The sisters tensed, their worry giving way to fury as Amy recognized the name, and Vicky figured out who I must be talking about. Alan was confused, but unsurprised. Maybe Emma hadn't said anything? At the very least, she probably lied. I don't see her actually admitting to perpetrating an extended campaign of harassment and abuse going over well. "But, that…" Dad stopped, closing his eyes as shock and horror rippled through his system. He tensed, clamping down on the rage that followed. "She wouldn't…?" Dad asked, but seemed to already know the answer. Alan turned back, confused.

I nodded anyway, curling in on myself a bit, which prompted the sisters to cuddle closer to support me.

Dad's hands trembled in his lap from the white-knuckle grip he was using to bleed off some of his anger. "I think you should leave, Alan." He stated, far more calmly than he felt.

"What, why?" He asked, in the breathy plea of the increasingly desperate.

"I need to have a talk with my daughter, which will probably require a bit more privacy." Dad's tone was cold, but polite. The same sort he used with clients who'd screwed the DWA in the past, but kept coming back with jobs that didn't pay nothing. It was becoming distressingly common, even in his calls while working from home.

"But…" Alan's eyes darted over us, and I was pretty sure he recognized the sisters by now. "We were going to rally the boys, gather up a search party and find-"

Dad's fist slammed down on the table, neatly interrupting him. The coffee in the mugs sloshed a bit, and one of the nearly empty beer bottles toppled over. Dad liked sturdy furniture, and he'd jokingly referred to it as 'the Hebert aesthetic' to mom more than once. Moments like this were why. Better to take your anger out on something you know can take it, rather than take a swing at someone that might break.

"If what I suspect is true," Dad said, fist trembling with rage and pain, now. "then I'm going to find myself hard-pressed not to call in every favor I have, and a fair few I don't, to make sure you and everyone you work for can't find union boys for your troubles until the 20's are back in." The glare he leveled at his friend was sad, but stern. "Please, leave."

Alan's fear and anxiety ratcheted up, closely followed by a building indignant fury. "You can't do that!" He snapped, pushing himself to his feet, his voice slightly shrill, full as it was of his tumultuous emotions.

I didn't think Dad actually had that kind of pull in the city, favors or not. He didn't seem to be lying, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was too angry to realize it wasn't true, just throwing out whatever threat sounded the worst. Dad chuckled, but there wasn't much mirth in it. "You're right." He waved his hands in a 'what can you do?' shrug. "I really shouldn't."

The continuing threat to the words seemed to take Alan aback. He was desperate, searching for anything to stand on, as far on the back foot as he was. He looked to us again, and I glanced away, unwilling to meet his eyes. Amy was giving him a disapproving glower while she leaned into me protectively. Vicky had stepped away a little, and I wasn't sure if it was just her aura leaking out again, or if it was the known brute cracking her knuckles ominously, but that seemed to be the last straw. He slipped around the chair, rushed past us, and was out the door so fast it slammed behind him.

There was a beat as I watched Alan flee to his car, while the sisters stood confused but resolute in their support, and Dad took a moment to breathe, before that simmering fury turned on me. "Honey, please tell me why I just kicked one of my best friends out of our house, when all he wanted was help finding his missing daughter?"

I'd wanted to just... move on with my life. Ignoring Emma, and everything she'd done. Let her have her petty kingdom without me, not letting it touch what I had now. I liked my life now. I was having a bad day, which made it harder to believe, but intellectually I knew I was happier these days. Having friends again, working to be a hero and make the city better... I had purpose again. I didn't want to rip the scab off again, but watching Alan breaking down in the driver seat of his car, I couldn't help but think that sometimes life was going to shit all over you, whether you were ready for it or not. It wouldn't be fun, but... looking back, it was probably inevitable.

I'd closed my eyes and hissed out a sigh, to give myself the time to mentally ramble for a bit. When they opened, I met Dad's stern look with a sad one. "I, uh... probably easier to just show you." I shook my head and peeled away from Amy. "Just a sec."

I made my way up the stairs, and heard "Hey, mister Hebert! I'm Victoria..." behind me. I snorted, and smirked. Vicky really couldn't handle tense silence well at all. It only took me half a minute to dig out what I was looking for.

I came back down with my abuse journals, all three of them. The first had been about two-thirds full when Emma or Madison dumped juice on me from another bathroom stall while I was updating it… which meant I'd needed to copy everything over to the second, from memory and prompting from the smudged and leaked ink. The pencil parts were legible enough, though. The third notebook was only about a third of the way full, by the time the Locker happened. I had a sheaf of papers stapled and clipped together as thick as any of them, full of printed out emails and the odd piece of homework photocopied post-vandalization.

When I came into the kitchen, the sisters were at the table, having gone through the introduction dance and settled into a much less tense silence while they waited. I held the journals to my chest like a shield, as I cleared my throat. "I, uh..." the attention of the room turned to me, and I closed my eyes and took a deeper breath. It didn't help me imagine they weren't there anymore, with my senses... but the action still calmed me down a little. "About half a year after the bullying started, I started writing down what happened. What I could remember of what'd already happened, and anything new that they threw at me." I sat the stuff down on the table and backed away, trying to supplement emotional distance with the physical version.

Vicky, ever curious with a dearth of hesitation, was the first to reach out to the pile. She grabbed the first notebook. "What? I don't..." She muttered, flipping through pages of bled ink that were only legible to me because I wrote them. She quickly came to one of the points where the trio had stolen my writing tools, and I'd had to borrow pencils to do my work. Pen always seemed more final than pencil, harder to erase if they found it. I hadn't realized how easy ink was to destroy if you didn't care about hiding that something had been there, at the time.

Dad grabbed the second, while Amy was glancing between the third and the sheaf of emails. "I had to start over after that one." With the other two still deathly silent, I answered Vicky just to have something to do besides standing around fidgeting. "It was too sticky to get the pages apart, so I washed it... made it worse." I still felt stupid about that, but I was panicking at the time.

I could tell they were all angry, and getting worse. Vicky read through the first page she found, then flipped through until she found ink again. She turned back to the last full pages of penciled notes and stopped, staring at the page. Her hands began to tremble as her fingers clenched around the edge of the pages, and her aura started ramping up. "Vicky, aura." I muttered, but she didn't hear me. She was gritting her teeth, trembling in fury, and I could see the binding of the notebook starting to come apart in her hands. "Vicky!"

She glanced my way. "Taylor, I..." She looked back and saw the damage she'd been doing, shaking her hands loose and dropping the journal like it was on fire. "Shit, sorry." She started hugging herself, gripping at her arms and curling in on herself a little. Tensing and pulling at herself- the only thing in the room she knew she couldn't break.

Amy was still muttering darkly while going over the entries and emails, but Dad set his down. He scooted it away from himself, and I got the feeling he wanted to throw it across the room. "Why didn't you tell me?" The strain in his voice belied the calm tone. He didn't like yelling at me, but it was getting to be a near thing.

Vicky seemed to be swiftly crashing into a sadness spiral that reminded me of depression, while Amy looked up at Dad's tone, furious and sad, but now also curious. I sighed. "I didn't want to bother you. It was my problem, I thought I was handling it." I forced the words out in a half-dazed monotone. Locking up and shutting down would just make everything worse. I had to push on.

He groaned, rubbing at his face and trying to force his temper down. "Taylor, we've been over this. You're my daughter. Your problems are my problems."

I winced, and shook my head. "I didn't want it to come between you and Alan."

He snorted, which continued into a half-mad laugh. "Fuck Alan!" He shouted, causing all of us to jump. Vicky was floating a bit, having pushed her chair back nearly to the point of falling over, and staring at him. "I don't care about him! They hurt you, Taylor! They..." He slapped his fingers down on the notebook a couple times. "This is not okay!"

I flinched back, then watched him start to crumble in on himself. Then his words sank in, and I saw red. "You think I don't know that?" I quietly snarled. "You think I liked what they were doing to me?" My voice picked up, and I stalked closer, prodding my finger down at the journals. "I hated every second of it! I might have come to you with my problems, if you weren't a half-dead lump who could barely drag himself to work every day!" I was shouting by the end, watching Dad glare back, his emotions flickering between rage and shame. I heaved in a couple deep breaths and continued. "Mom died, and you broke. Drinking for months, avoiding everything, avoiding me. It took an intervention just to get you to start buying food again! You think I could trust you after that!?" Dad shut his eyes, grimacing hard enough to show his clenched teeth. "Even after that, you were just going through the motions, barely enough to get by. When Emma turned on me, you know what I thought?" I slammed my hands down on the table. "I can't tell Dad! He'll either break down again, or explode and make everything worse! Tell me I was wrong, dad! Lie to my face and tell me I was wrong!" This time when I slammed my hands down, my fists splintered the wood, and loud sickening cracks rang through the room. I jumped back, startled, and stared down in horror at what I'd done. Two small craters sat in the solid wooden surface, spikes of wood pulling up at the edges. One of the thick legs had split, the others digging into the wood of the floor instead.

It took me a second to realize the keening whine I heard was coming from me.

"Oh god." I whispered, raising my hands to my mouth and backing away. "Oh god, I'm sorry." I kept backing up until I hit the counter, then I slid to the floor. "I'm so sorry." I broke our table. "I'm sorry." The table we ate nearly every meal at. "I'm sorry!" The table we ate with mom at.

"It's fine." Dad said, staring down at the damage. "It's just a table."

"But, but it's our..." I tried to blubber out.

"It's just a table, Taylor!" He snapped, causing me to flinch. He shook his head, staring down at me with wet eyes. "We can fix this." I didn't think he was talking about the table. I sniffled up the snot threatening to escape, and watched him shake his head and wipe his face. "We can fix it, it's fine."

The hand on my shoulder startled me back into focus. I'd forgotten all about the sisters, during my rant. Amy was knelt beside me, full of compassion and worry. Vicky floated behind her, fists clasped protectively over her chest as she watched me with a soft frown and sad eyes. "I'm sorry." I muttered again, to the girls this time. I wiped the tears from my eyes and cheeks, leaning forward and trying to clamber to my feet. I stumbled a bit, my legs not wanting to carry my weight. Amy caught me, and held me for a moment, before she helped me to my feet.

Dad pulled himself slowly from his chair, took his time piling the journals up, then looked over to us. By then, Amy was glaring at him for upsetting me, and Vicky looked like she was torn between doing the same, and floating over to start fussing over me. "Taylor," Dad started, slowly and sadly, tapping the journals again. "is there anything else I should know about?"

This set the Dallons against him again, Vicky joining in the glare, and Amy looking about ready to snap at him. I patted her shoulder to get her attention, and shook my head. "Vicky knows. About my powers."

He glanced over at her, and nodded. "That everything?" I answered with a nod, and he responded in kind. He felt conflicted for a moment, as he looked over the three of us. "Take care of her, please?"

The sisters hesitated for a moment, before both agreed. Dad wandered over to the phone and dug into the pile of notes and phone numbers next to it. Amy started leading us to the stairs, before I stopped, and she halted with me. "Hey, Dad?" He hummed in response, looking up from dialing the phone. "You'd tell me, right? If there was anything important you were hiding, too?"

He cringed a little. "Yes, Taylor." He didn't seem to be lying, just... tired. Burnt out, a lot like I felt. He felt conflicted for a bit, before he continued. "Unless it was someone else's secret... even then, maybe. If it was important enough."

I glanced away and hummed, feeling like a heel. I couldn't tell if that one was a lie, but it didn't really matter. I nodded, and let Amy tug me towards the stairs as Vicky floated after us.

As we ascended, I heard Dad talking on the phone. "Yeah, Detective. It's Danny Hebert. ...turns out I've got something I can add to the case, after all."

I groaned to myself, my body feeling like lead as I trudged after Amy.

I flopped down on my bed as soon as we were in my room. Amy took my desk chair, and Vicky closed the door after us. Face-down in my pillow as I was, I couldn't actually 'see' Vicky. Amy seemed to be having a silent conversation with her though, from the way she was mouthing things and gesturing. I still hadn't mastered reading lips, and couldn't bring myself to care to try right now. Even with my senses not taking up my attention anymore, I still needed to push my brain a little to recognize new things. As it stood though, even watching Amy sit and gesture, seeing Dad pace a bit on the phone until he started looking through the journals again, probably relaying some of what was in them, even tracking the rolling blur that was Alan's car across town… I was mostly focused on not focusing on anything, to give myself a few minutes to recharge.

A little over a minute into my floppening- by my reckoning- it was interrupted by Vicky softly setting down beside me on my bed. She was sitting by my stomach, one leg curled under her so she could point toward my head. One hand gently sat itself on my shoulder, while the other began to softly pet my hair. "Taylor? Are you okay?"

"Hmmmurglflurph." Was my elegant reply, directed straight into my pillow.

Vicky glanced at Amy, who shrugged. "Are you okay?" She reiterated a little more firmly, when she turned back to me.

I sighed, turning my head toward them so that I could actually speak. I wanted to say 'yes' or 'I'm fine' or… any of the other usual deflective lies. I didn't want to lie, though. "I don't know." I muttered, instead. "I'll be fine. I'm sorry… about all that."

"Is he… always like that?" Vicky asked, her hands pressing a bit more forcefully as she split her attention between talking and continuing her comforting ministrations.

"What?" I had to admit, this sort of comforting platonic touch felt… nice. It took me a moment to realize what she meant. "Wait, no. Dad's fine, he hasn't yelled at me like that in… years." I was honestly having trouble remembering it. "This was... I don't even know what this was. Two years of problems all exploding at once, maybe."

I wasn't looking right at her, but I could feel her grimace through my contact with her hands. "That sucks, I'm sorry." She chewed her lip for a bit, glancing around. Amy was still sitting at the desk, feeling worried, lost, a little... jealous? Envious? I still had trouble telling those apart, sometimes. Amy was prickly, and she knew it. It made sense she'd let Vicky take the reigns trying to comfort me. I could grok wanting to be better at something outside your comfort zone. "So, you wanted to talk cape stuff?"

I knew Vicky was trying to distract me, but honestly I welcomed it. "Yeah. I'm... not really low-profile anymore. I'm not sure how to handle it."

She bit back a scoff, but didn't hide her grin. "That's an understatement." She turned to her sister. "Bring up her thread?" Amy rolled her eyes, but started digging out her phone. "You're... not really an outgoing sort." She said to me. "I can see why being famous would be scary, for you. You can't shy away from it, though. Either you own it, get someone else to handle it, or the media will start saying whatever they want about you."

My face turned back into my pillow and I let out a thunderous groan. "Gram said the same thing..."

Pretty sure what Vicky just confusedly mouthed to Amy was 'Grandmother?' which... yeah. Probably not normal for your grandma to know about your caping. Amy rolled her eyes and gave an exaggerated nod. "Well," Vicky continued, "she sounds like she knows her stuff." She let out a surprised squawk when Amy beaned her with her phone, but she caught it and flipped through the page that was up a little. "Okay, here." She showed me the start of the 'Terraform' thread on PHO, just the first half of the original post, and the page selections. I barely budged her as I tried to reflexively jump up, letting out a couple strangled surprised noises.

"Four hundred pages?" I squeaked.

Vicky chuckled, as she let me sit up properly. "That's what happens when you get out-of-towners flocking in." She shook her head wistfully and nodded to herself. "The first step to being famous right, is being seen. If you're too shy, you'll just invite speculation. The second is having a voice, so people know they can't say whatever they want without a fight. After that is..." She thought for a moment. "...I dunno what carries over next. Was going to say PR stunts and autographs, but... baby steps."

Despite myself, I chuckled. "Not everyone's you, Vicky."

She smirked and shrugged. "Anyway, I've got New Wave to handle a lot of my PR. Without a team, you're gonna need to do a lot of it, or get help. You want me to handle it, for a while?"

I blinked, and then met Amy's eyes over her sister's lap. She hesitated for a moment, before she nodded. "I... have a team, Vicky."

"Wait, really? Who?"

"Just..." I shook my head. "Myself, another independent..." It didn't sound like much of a team yet, but...

"And me." Amy stated. I hadn't wanted to throw her name in without her approval, but if she was willing to admit it?

"Yeah." I muttered, as Vicky glanced between us.

"Amy, you...?" Vicky whispered, her mind whirling as she settled on staring at her sister. "What?"

She shook her head. "I don't... think I want to stay with New Wave. I like Taylor." Her heart picked up a bit, but this was a pretty stressful topic. "I want to help her. Be on her team."

"But what about-"

"Carol." Amy stated, cutting her sister off.

Vicky winced, but nodded. "I'm... I'm sorry, Ames."

Amy shook her head. "It's not you, Vicky. I just... don't want to stay. I'll still be a hero, I'll still be around. Just... not with New Wave."

Vicky's mood had tanked with the revelation, and just seemed to get worse as she nodded. I reached up to rub at her shoulder, trying to return some of the comfort she'd been lavishing on me. She glanced my way and smiled sadly, then turned away to stare at the floor in thought. Eventually, her emotions firmed into determination, and she nodded. "I'm in, too."

"What?" Amy and I asked simultaneously, then she continued. "But, what about New Wave? I'm adopted, if they aren't expecting me to leave by now, they're stupid... but they're your actual, biological family."

Vicky shook her head. "Who said anything about leaving? If Narwhal can be the leader of the Guild and the head of a Protectorate team, I don't see why I can't be on two different hero teams." She smiled at her. "Amy, you're my sister. Blood or not, I still love you. I'm going to do whatever I can to help you be happy."

Amy started tearing up. "Vicky..."

She shrugged. "Besides, you're going to need help smoothing things over. Mom and Aunt Sarah will be happier with me keeping you safe." From the way Amy's mood dipped, I felt like I was missing something, but she nodded.

Right, well. New teammate. I should be happier about this, I think, but decided to blame my mood swings the past few days. "Okay, if you're going to be on my team, the first thing you need to do is learn to control your aura." I stated firmly.

"...and your temper." Amy sniped, causing her sister to flinch. I could tell there was a story there, but they were heroes in good standing, so it couldn't be that bad, right? I decided to leave it be for now.

"...Alright, what do you want me to do?" Vicky cautiously asked.

"I've been teaching Amy to meditate, and I think it's been helping her mood." Amy gave a small shrug and a nod at my words. "I'm hoping it'd help you control your aura more, and I know it's good for anger issues, if that's a thing."

Vicky nodded, but Amy cut in. "Before that, though, there's something I want to take care of." She got up and came over to retrieve her phone, lighting up the screen again to show the PHO page. "Vicky has a point about PR. We really need to get you your own account, and it's a good idea from an optics standpoint to get your actual name for your account, if you can. Terraform's been offline for months, we can put in a request to claim the name for your account."

"Ooh! Ooh!" Vicky hopped excitedly. "We can take a picture! Prove she's her, and that we're asking for her. Plus we can use it to prove we know her, and try to wrangle PR for her, for a bit."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Or we could just make an account for her, so she can do it."

Her sister deflated a little. "Oh, right."

I gave a hesitant chuckle. "No, it's fine. If you're that excited about it, I don't mind. I think... I probably should be the one asking about the name change, though."

Amy nodded. "Okay, temporary name while the claim goes through... Terraform BB sound okay?"

I nodded, and she started the process of making the new account for me from her phone. "Ooh!" Vicky chimed in again happily. "For the picture, I was thinking we could take a flying selfie. You could do a powers thing, and I'd be flying. You can do water or something, right?" I stared blankly at her for a moment, before I clapped my hands together and slowly drew them apart, forming a burbling ball of fire roughly the size of her head between my palms. Her grin was... actually a little unsettling. "That's so cool! That's perfect!"

With a scoff, I let the fire snuff itself out. Vicky was just so... cheerful. "Whatever's fine." I got up and headed to my closet to start suiting up.

Vicky stayed on my bed, vibrating excitedly, while Amy finished setting stuff up on her phone. "Alright, account is made. 'Terraform underscore B, underscore B', assholes took the other two versions I tried, already. Password is '9270381', remember to change it sometime over the weekend, Taylor."

Her sister fiddled with her own phone a bit. "Aaand logged in. We can just attach the picture from my phone when we're done." Vicky chirped happily.

Amy groaned. "Should send an admin a message or something, letting them know what's going on so Taylor doesn't get in trouble for sock-puppeting..." She tapped away for a bit, before humming. "Ehh, Tin Mom's on. She's usually pretty cool."

I shook my head, a little amazed by the back-and-forth the sisters had going. I'd just finished putting on my masks and overcoat, dropping my pants to shimmy into my costume ones. Amy must have caught the motion in the corner of her eye, because I felt her glance my way and stare a bit as I leaned over to put them on. I mean... she was a lesbian, and I was a girl. If she liked looking at girl butts, I was a girl and had a butt... I pushed down the little thrill that she might actually find me attractive. She wouldn't even see my panties, with the low cut of the coat. I just happened to be the only girl partially undressing in the same room as a lesbian, that was all it was. When I had the pants up and fastening, Amy glanced back at her sister, who was giving her a bright Cheshire grin. She scoffed and looked away, probably blushing a little.

"Okay!" I said, turning around. By then Amy was back to normal, tapping away at that message she was sending. "So, uh. Back door, Vicky?" She nodded and hopped to her feet, following me down the stairs and into the back yard. We dodged Dad, who was sitting in the living room watching the news, with the journals on the coffee table. Probably waiting for someone to drop by for them, I thought. I steadfastly declared it no longer my problem, and turned back to my friend. "So, do we just...?"

She grinned and pounced, pulling me into her arms and leaping straight into the air. A few minutes later, we were well into the air, centered more over the Boardwalk. Now that the wind wasn't whipping in my ears, I could actually hear her. "Alright, let me just..." She muttered, leaning back in the air and settling me into her lap and on her stomach. She started digging into her pockets and purse, pulling out and handing me her phone, along with an honest-to-god selfie stick. She quickly assembled them, setting her phone to take pictures on a timer, and prodding the thing, pointing it back down at us with Brockton Bay in the background below. "Okay, do your fire thing." She said, counting down seconds until the picture happened. I did as requested, and she asked, "You know Amy likes you, right?"

The fire stuttered in my hands as the picture sound snapped. She chuckled and pulled the stick in, checking the picture. The flare was... interesting. I didn't think it was a very good shot, though. She seemed to agree, because she started setting up for another. "I mean... she's my best friend?" I tried, but she shook her head.

"Nah, I mean she has a crush on you." I sucked in a breath, nearly losing control of the fire in my hands. Breath is the soul of fire, breath gives the fire life. I pushed all else from my mind, focusing on my breathing, and not the nuclear blush behind my mask. The picture sound snapped again, and Vicky pulled the phone back down.

"I..." I could tell she wasn't lying, or at least thought that she was right. It was hard not to, since she was the only thing I could feel, up here in the air. "...believe that you believe that. And anyway, she..." could do so much better than me. I shook my head. "...it doesn't matter anyway, because I'm straight."

"Really?" She asked, a touch incredulously.

I groaned. "Yes, really." Why was it so hard to believe? It was honestly getting to be a bit frustrating. Maybe I should try to act more girly, if this was what everyone thought of me.

"Well, okay." She chirped, not seeming to give my sexual identity much thought beyond taking me at my word. "One more, just in case." She prodded the camera button and forced another chipper smile. I held up another fireball, and the phone snapped another picture. "That one was pretty good." Vicky said, as we looked at it.

I grunted an agreement. "Hey," I said, and she hummed. "I... people keep thinking I'm gay because I'm not girly enough. I was wondering... if you could maybe help me with that?"

She paused in her disassembly of her selfie kit. "You want me to...?" Her confusion quickly gave way to amusement, as she snorted. "Yeah, I think I can help with that, Tay." She chuckled to herself, and I started wondering if I'd made a mistake. It wasn't like I'd asked her to go shoppi- ah, shit. I just asked her to take me shopping, didn't I? I groaned, and she giggled harder. I was actually starting to worry about unbalancing on top of her, even though I knew she could catch me. We were still a startling ways up, now that I actually looked down and considered it.

"Can we... go down, now?" I whined.

She snorted. "Asking a girl to go down is hardly helping your case, there."

It took me a second, but I blushed, and shouted. "Vicky!"

She just started laughing, finally getting everything put away, and starting to fall out from under me. I shrieked, and she took hold of me again. "Don't worry, flying down feels like falling!"

It took me a moment to calm down and realize she was mostly right. I could tell we were accelerating slightly, going down a little faster than gravity was pulling us. She was still in control, we were fine. Flying was starting to feel a little less amazing now, though. Without being absolutely sure it was safe, it seemed like a pretty terrible power, honestly. It took us longer to get home safely than it did flying into the air, but we managed it. We dodged Dad again, since he hadn't moved. We'd only been gone fifteen minutes or so, and he was still waiting downstairs.

When we got back to my room, Amy was still typing up messages on her phone. She seemed pretty agitated, actually. "Are you still writing up that email?" I asked, before moving to start taking my costume off.

"PM, and no." Amy answered. "By the way, what were the names of those ringleader girls?"

I paused. "Uhm. Emma, Sophia, Madison? Why?"

"Full names, spell them, please." She replied curtly.

I stopped disrobing entirely, turning back to her with my ceramic mask off, and my coat unzipped to show my shirt underneath. "Why?" I asked more firmly.

She looked up at me, her emotions flaring indignantly. "I'm adding them to my List."

"Oooh," Vicky hissed. "Are you sure, Ames?"

Amy nodded, and I was sure I was missing something. "What list?"

"The list of people the hospital won't even bother trying to get me to heal, because I'd just refuse, anyway." She replied darkly, with a satisfied smirk. "Every non-villain healer has one, though not everyone uses theirs. They're managed by the PRT, who work with the hospitals we heal at, and since I'm a minor, mine's curated by Carol." She took the time to finish her text, and turned back, in full lecture mode. "Right, you're a healer too, so you should know this stuff. There was a healer around when we were born, off in... Seattle, I think. Her name was Perseid, and she was a hydrokinetic whose power worked best on blood. She could stop bleeding, pull blood out of the brain in an aneurysm, things like that. She had an argument, where she refused to heal someone. Got so bad she just walked out, and there were three other deaths they thought she could have prevented that day, if she'd stayed. They tried to sue her over it, and she won the cases. Leviathan killed her a few years later, but the public outcry at the time was bad enough that the PRT set up the No-Heal lists to try and keep it from happening again."

"Question!" Vicky popped in, when Amy paused. We turned to her, and she motioned at me. "You're a healer?"

"Uhh, yeah." I muttered. "I can use water to heal people."

Her jaw worked for a moment, before she groaned. "Did you just get all the powers, or something?"

I shook my head, grimacing a little. "Not really, the healing's a little weird, actually. Most of my powers make sense, but the healing is more... push energy in through the water, and manipulate them until the wounds are gone."

Vicky chuckled. "Your powers are nuts..." I smiled wryly, but didn't disagree.

Amy cleared her throat. "Anyway, Carol's agreed to add the girls who... hospitalized," I'm pretty sure she'd wanted to say 'triggered' there, but I don't think she wanted Vicky to know her parents had known my status before she did. "my best friend. I'm trying to get her to add their immediate families, just to make a point, but she's being stubborn. So, names?"

I gave them, while I finished changing. I spelled them when asked, and by the time I'd finished swapping back to house clothes, Vicky was done messing with the picture, too.

"Alright, I've got it uploaded, and the link saved. Now we just need to PM the admin about it." Vicky said, showing me her phone. There were a couple messages to someone called 'Tin_Mother', one I assumed was from Amy, saying that Panacea and Glory Girl were helping set up the account, so it might show up from the same device IDs for a bit. There was a reply acknowledging it, and then the message Vicky had written up. It looked fine, just a request to get the account name changed, with a link to the picture to prove I was who I said.

"Seems fine?" I said, and she nodded and sent it.

"So," Amy said after a moment's silence. "meditating?"

After everyone got comfortable, I went through the basics for Vicky's benefit. Early on in the explanation, a car I was pretty sure was a police cruiser pulled up, and a man came to the door to talk to Dad for a bit. He handed off the journals and signed some forms, keeping one of the sheets. I put it out of my mind after that, with Dad going back to working from home for now.

About an hour later, he came in to ask if we wanted dinner. No one felt much like cooking, so we wound up ordering pizza again. With food taken care of, we went back to practice, spending the next few hours sans food, bathroom, and texting breaks, working on getting Vicky up to speed on the basics.

It was well after dark when they left, with Amy promising to meet me early tomorrow, and keep Vicky from slacking too hard on meditation practice.

Avatar Taylor (Worm Quest)

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Dalxein

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Dalxein

Dalxein

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Apr 7, 2020

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#469

Sorry this is a little late, was smashing out an update over the weekend, which took time away from corrections re-reading.

I'd also like to point out that we're voting on Taylor's team's name, this week. Seemed significant enough to bother mentioning it, here.

SAT FEB 26

I woke up early, since I hadn't been sure what we'd be doing for exercise today. Decided to get a workout in before I had to leave, just in case. About forty minutes of weight training later, I started dad's coffee, then called Amy while waiting for the shower to heat up. She sounded cranky, but said she'd already been awake. After informing her that we'd be by in about half an hour to pick her up, I hung up. Then I made sure dad was getting up, and hopped into the shower for a quick scrubbing rinse to get the morning's sweat off.

After that, I threw on something that looked relatively nice, and headed downstairs to meet up with dad. He finished his cup and refilled it for the road, and we drove over to the Dallon's. He parked on the curb and I hopped out, heading for the door. The house was surprisingly active, this early. I could feel Amy in the kitchen with Mark, snacking and pulling from a mug. Carol was in the living room, typing away at a laptop while facing the bay windows taking up most of their street-side front room wall, letting in the morning sun. Vicky... was still in bed, from what I could tell.

When I knocked, Carol was the first to react properly, grabbing her own mug and heading for the door, while Amy took a minute to finish whatever she'd been talking with Mark about. She saw Dad's truck through the windows first, then caught sight of me through the door's peephole. I could feel her grumble slightly to herself before she opened the door. The stare she leveled my way was frosty, but not quite as hostile as I'd expected. Her clothes were nice, but casual. She probably wasn't planning on heading anywhere today. Her mug caught my eye, now that I could see the decals on it. 'Best Mom' set over a medal. It took me a second to recognize it as rather obviously a bronze medal, and I couldn't help but think Amy must've had something to do with it.

Carol cleared her throat. "Yes?"

I flinched at the curt tone. I hadn't intended to freeze up like this. "Uh, is Amy...?" I peered behind her, feeling Amy peel off from the kitchen, taking large gulps of her drink as she came into view.

Her mother snorted, feeling rather amused, though her flat expression barely showed it. "Yes, Amy can come out to play."

The girl herself huffed out a strangled chuckle. "Thanks a lot, Carol." She finished off her coffee, then handed the mug over to her mother as she passed. "I'll be back by 9."

Amy strode right past me, and I glanced briefly between them, before I followed her. Carol rolled her eyes, frustrated but still amused, as she softly kicked the door shut.

She opened the truck's door, and waited for me to hop into the middle seat, before she followed me in. "Is... everything okay?" She hummed inquisitively at my question, so I elaborated. "She seemed... different?"

"Yeah," She muttered, rolling her eyes again. "I told her we told Vicky. She's not happy with you, but she's running out of excuses for her hate-on."

Dad stifled a snort, trying to play the good silent chauffeur, but obviously listening in. I appreciated the effort, but it was a bit of a lost cause in a single-row pickup. "Ah," I muttered. "so that... went well?"

She shrugged. "About as well as it could've. Mark was there, and he likes you."

Dad nodded along, and I got the feeling I was missing something, again. "Right." I drawled.

Amy butted her shoulder into mine. "Don't make it weird. He's just happy that I've been happier, lately."

"Dads are like that, sometimes." Mine cut in, smiling.

I hummed noncommittally, and let the conversation drift off. We spent the rest of the nearly ten minute trip to the nicer part of town listening to the quiet radio playing one of dad's classic rock stations. After we stopped on the curb to hop out, Dad asked again if we'd need a ride back, probably thinking that adding Amy to the question might change the answer, but we declined. So he headed off to grab breakfast somewhere and head in to the office for a few hours, while we made our way to the door.

We knocked, and waited while Cheryl came to answer the door. She didn't seem to be in the best mood, but wasn't outright angry. I guessed she was too happy with Dinah's improvement to be too put out about my bringing a friend today. "Hello, Taylor. And you must be Amy." They shook hands, and from her minimal reaction, I gathered Amy had her powers off for now.

"Yup."

She was irritated by Amy's curt reply, but dropped it to invite us inside. We followed her in, and found the rest of the Alcotts at their table. Dinah looked and felt apologetic, while her father looked stern.

"Miss Hebert." He nodded to me. "And miss…?"

Amy bit a sigh back to a long exhale through her nose. "Amy Dallon."

The parents glanced at each other, and I felt the moment they realized why they recognized the name. "Dear," Cheryl muttered, turning back to us. "you're Panacea?"

Amy gave in to the urge to sigh, this time. "Yeah, that's me."

"Oh my," She actually swooned a little. "if I'd known… Dinah, dear, did you…?"

Her daughter grimaced under her gaze. "I d-" She stuttered, shaking her head. "It's study time. I knew you'd make a big deal out of it. I didn't want… a party or something."

Cheryl chuckled. "Ah, I… suppose that's fair, dear."

Her husband laughed a bit, too. "Well, now. That changes things. Come on, sit, sit! We have-"

"Can you heal my parents?" Dinah asked, loudly cutting him off, and staring longingly at Amy.

"What?" The rest of the room asked, while Amy glared back.

"Please." Dinah begged, her eyes tearing up. "They don't think I know, but… they've been going to the hospital, and lying, and… They keep saying everything is fine when I know it isn't. I know it."

Right, with her power it must be easy to tell if something's wrong, or that something bad could happen. If she's been asking about this, and getting worse and worse answers? I couldn't imagine how horrible it would be to know someone I loved was going to die, and know just as certainly there was nothing I could do about it. "Amy…" I muttered, imploringly.

Dinah's father was blustering, indignantly trying to form a denial without shouting. Her mother was more successful, though her body was blooming with internal stress and fear responses. "Honey, we're fine…"

"No, you're not!" She yelled back, her voice growing a manic edge.

Amy was growing steadily more frustrated, and seemed to have had enough. "I can't do anything without their consent. If they're sure nothing's wrong, I can't change their minds."

"But you can check, right?" Dinah asked, desperately, turning back to her parents after Amy hesitantly nodded. "She can check, right?" Her mother started making a vaguely dismissive noise, so she continued. "If nothing's wrong, then she can prove there's nothing wrong. You can… you can go to your doctors and tell them she said nothing's wrong, and they'll believe her."

The parents glanced at each other, but that seemed to convince them. "Alright, dear. If it'll make you feel better, there's no harm in checking." Cheryl held her hand out to Amy, who tensed slightly- turning her senses back on, I guess- and took it.

A few seconds later, she was shaking her head. "I'm sorry. Stage two breast cancer."

Cheryl pulled her hand back, as if burned. "But…" She shook her head, glancing to her sad but determined daughter, and her husband. "I can't…" She started hyperventilating. "It can't be. I can't have cancer."

Amy shrugged. "Everyone has cancer." That stopped Cheryl's panic spiral well enough, but left all of us staring at her in confusion. She sighed, and continued. "Cancer's been killing things for more than a billion years. Most animals, humans included, are built to handle the vast majority of cancers before they could even be detected. Over ninety-nine percent. I can guarantee, if you're old enough to ask if you've had cancer, you've had cancer. The rest are either benign, like those nodules on your thyroid, or the stuff the body can't handle. Never assume you can't get cancer, that's what the screenings are for." She dropped out of lecture mode, shaking her head. "I'm assuming they found something?"

"I…" She hesitated, swallowing before she continued. "I thought it was just another false positive…"

"Those suck," Amy nodded, "but the tests are built to have as few false negatives as possible. It's hard to get perfect." She hummed to herself. "Anyway, it's not in your brain. Did you want me to heal you?"

She hesitated, stuttering. "Yes. Yes, please."

Amy took her hand again, and I sat down next to Dinah. "Are you okay?" I asked softly.

She nodded, drawing in a wet, nearly sniffly breath. Her father was stunned, to the point he didn't seem aware of us. About a minute into the healing, I started feeling restless, and began piling my plate with waffles, fruit, and eggs. I was hesitant to actually start eating though, for the same reason I hadn't spoken since poking Dinah. It seemed… a little too rude, given what was going on. Still, I nudged her again, trying to keep the guilt and shame that threatened to overwhelm her relief at bay, prompting her to start nibbling thoughtfully at a strawberry. Then I started a plate for Amy, just to keep my hands busy.

About three minutes after she'd started, Amy nodded. "Alright, done." Cheryl thanked her timidly, clasping her hands together in front of her. "You wanted me to check, too?" She turned to asked Chris, who shared a glance with his wife. She was staring pleadingly at him, and he nodded. Amy strode over to where he was still seated, laying a hand on his. "Hypertension, cholesterol plaques, minor organ failure…" She muttered to herself, before scoffing and speaking up. "I'm a little surprised you managed to go this long without a major heart attack or stroke. I'm seeing some damage that could've been a prior cardiac event, people don't usually miss those." Her waspish tone wasn't helping any, and she sighed when she realized it. "I assume you want me to heal you?"

He nodded and muttered his agreement, and she sat down to work. I'd run out of busywork for my hands, so I turned my attention outward. Trying to distance myself from the world enough to meditate also seemed a touch too disrespectful, especially considering how short the time until she'd be done was. So I focused on the neighbors in the nearby blocks of houses. They were actual lots with proper yards and space, but they still crammed a lot of them into the area. It was easy to detect the people, see generally what they were doing. It was a little harder to try and figure out what people were saying, what they were eating… it was also a challenge deliberately ignoring the three couples nearby… coupling.

I'd become somewhat inured to it, over the past month or so. Before, I could just stop focusing on them, let them have their privacy and try to stop feeling like a pervert for what watching I did do. Now though, it was more difficult. Like the difference between being able to glance away, and trying to ignore something you were staring right at. Like having so much extra brainpower you couldn't force yourself to ignore every little itch and wiggle on your skin, because there was always more to your attention that had nothing better to focus on.

Cheryl turned to glance at us, and I forced a wide smile for her benefit, which she timidly returned.

In the end I wound up meditating anyway, better able to force myself not to care about the minutes ticking by. Eight minutes in, Amy was done. "Alright, you," She indicated Cheryl. "might be hungrier than normal for the rest of the day. While you," She turned back, waggling an accusing finger mr. Alcott's way. "should talk to your doctor. If they set you on a diet, or a prescription, stick to it."

He stared warily at the finger for a moment, then gave a hesitant nod. Cheryl was nodding along with her words, her emotions shifting from worry and anxiety to an odd mix of gratitude and resignation. "Thank you." She said to both of us, glancing down and eyeing the plates I'd set up for us. "Why don't you girls head on up? We can worry about the dishes later."

"Are you sure, mom?" Dinah asked hesitantly.

She glanced back at her husband, and nodded. "It's fine, for today."

"Alright." I cut in. If she wanted some privacy, I wasn't adverse to giving it. Healed or not, she wasn't having the best day right now. I grabbed the plates for myself and Amy, nodding toward the stairs. "Thanks for breakfast."

She murmured a demurred sentiment as we filed up the stairs. Dinah was right behind me, and we set the plates down on her desk, which already had some of her books and homework open and out. Amy shut the door behind us, and I watched Dinah's parents sit together, holding each other and muttering, emotions flaring between panic, relief, worry... I shook my head. They were dealing with it, they'd be okay.

Amy had been fuming since we left, though I think I underestimated by how much when she venomously hissed at Dinah. "So, is that why you wanted me here?" The girl turned away timidly. "You couldn't have asked beforehand? Or convinced them to just see me at the hospital?"

"I'm sorry." She replied, sitting on her bed, which made her seem even smaller compared to us. Then the glanced back at Amy, a bit more steel in her spine, heart filling with determination. "But, I love my parents. I knew you wouldn't say no."

"Amy," I cut in, drawing her attention so she wouldn't snap at the girl. "she was scared and desperate. I know I was that impulsive at her age, we should cut her a little slack." Amy scoffed, but didn't snap or rebut the point. I turned to Dinah, who'd folded in on herself contritely at my words. "But, we're a team now. The most important part of teamwork is communication. If you need help, just ask for help. We need to learn to trust each other, and this isn't helping any."

She shrank back in on herself. "I'm sorry, Taylor." She muttered pitifully.

I sat down next to her, bundling her up in a hug and rubbing at her back while she fought back her oncoming sniffles. I hesitated, lost for words, until I decided to just think of what mom would say. "It's okay, sweetie. We're all learning. We'll get better together, okay?"

She nodded and smiled, nuzzling into my shoulder a bit. I glanced at Amy, who'd begun fidgeting as her heartrate picked up. She was blushing a little, and felt stressed and ashamed after a brief spike of jealous envy. I jerked my head slightly, silently asking if she wanted to turn the hug into a cuddle pile, but she glanced away, blushing harder as her frustration spiked. Oh well, I was hopeful she'd get over her thing with touching eventually.

A couple minutes later, I nudged my shoulder against Dinah, jostling her slightly. "You feeling better?" She nodded shyly. "Okay. Do you want to start with homework, studying ahead, talking about powers, or team stuff?"

She sat up fully and sighed. "We might as well do powers."

I nodded. "Okay, I'm Terraform. I'm a Shaker, with control over classical elements, and some of their weird esoteric properties I think, like water being linked to healing." That made the most sense to me, anyway. "I'm also fast, and a bit stronger than normal." I looked over to Amy, who rolled her eyes and grumbled.

Her gut and muscles clenched slightly, her eyes twitched downward, and her breath hitched. Outwardly I wouldn't notice, but she was gearing up to lie. "Panacea. Striker. I can heal people, and see their biology." That sounded right, but... she had to be omitting something, then. Whatever it was, it bothered her enough to prompt mild stress and fear responses just avoiding it. I knew I didn't have much room to talk, since I was also omitting things I didn't want her to know...

No, she was my best friend, and I trusted her. She deserved to know I was reading her like a book. I decided then that I was going to tell her, when we left for home. Dinah was a sweet girl, but she still had trouble catching all the little quirks her power had her slipping into. She wasn't ready for all our secrets, yet...

I pushed down the dark part of myself that just wanted to know what her secret was. She was a good person, and I trusted her. Whatever it was, it was fine.

"I'm... uhh..." Dinah demurred, fidgeting again. "I... kinda' want a name?"

The fact that she seemed to be asking to be allowed a cape name was both cute, and... a bit sad. "That's fine, I thought you'd want one eventually, I just wasn't pushing you."

She nodded, a bit more confident with my open approval. "I think... I like Shatterpoint."

Amy and I glanced at each other, curious and... a little alarmed. That sounded like a fighter's name, rather than a support role like a precog. "Are... you sure?"

She nodded. "It's a term that's come up in regards to future-prediction. It's kind of obscure, someone took a fiction reference and used it for a real thing. It's... uh," She took a moment to blush and fidget. "it's a point or event, which can radically change the future, depending on how it goes. Or something that causes so much change, it's hard to precog what comes after." I gave an impressed hum, while Amy blinked. "I... I want to change the future. It... seemed like a good name."

I barked a short laugh, and chuckled as I rustled her hair. She mewled unhappily about it, but I knew she was smiling. "That sounds like a pretty good name, then."

She took a moment to breathe and calm down before continuing. "A-anyway... I'm a Thinker. I get... visions, sometimes. It's hard to remember them, since my power changed. If I'm asked the right sort of question, or if I ask them, then I get numbers. Percentage chances for how likely something is."

"Your powers... changed?" Amy asked, her tone worried with a hint of incredulity. I could tell she was shocked and intrigued, though.

Dinah nodded. "I used to get really bad headaches after only a few questions. Now I don't see things very often, I get less specific numbers... but I have a lot more questions per day."

Amy glanced my way and I shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Powers don't just change." She stated.

Dinah glanced away, but nodded. "I know. Mine did, though." She leaned forward, and started talking faster. "I had mine for weeks before Taylor found me, and they were always the same since I got them. Ever since Christmas, when dad... got sick." She hugged her arms to herself and curled slightly.

"...when he had a heart attack." Amy stated.

It took a moment, but Dinah nodded. "It wasn't like the ones on TV. He was just... tired, all of a sudden. Said he was sick. They went to the hospital the next day, and he didn't believe them."

Amy rolled her head in a halfway-nod. "If he was hiding chest pain behind some bullshit machismo, I could see how it might look like that."

We were quiet for a few moments, before Dinah spoke up again. "Amy?" She hummed in response, and Dinah continued. "...thank you, for saving him, and helping mom."

The healer glanced away, waving off the sentiment, before our continued silence prompted her to sigh. "Yeah, yeah. You're welcome."

I couldn't help but smile, thinking they might get along after all. "Okay, so. Team stuff?" I got nods, so continued. "We've got the three of us, plus Glory Girl, now. Dinah, do you mind me asking some questions?"

She shook her head with a small shrug. "Go ahead?"

At first my thought was to ask about the chances of recruiting other capes over the week, and the next month or so. That brought my mind to Rune, and her plea for help. "I... have something to tell you both first, actually." I took a breath, and dove right in. "I was approached by some villains over the past few days."

"What, who...?" I waved down Amy's outburst, and her eyes widened slightly before she growled.

"I'm getting to that." I said, before she could work herself up any more. "First off, Rune says she doesn't want to be a part of the Empire anymore. I believe her, but I don't know how to help her, or even if it's a good idea." I took a deeper breath and thought up a few questions and how to word them. "So first off, was Rune being honest when she said she wanted out? Will she keep wanting out in the future?"

Dinah stilled with that little internal flinch I'd come to associate with her power activating. "87 percent."

Well, it was good to have that verified, at least. Amy scoffed, her emotions bubbling into an indignant fury at the thought of helping her. I ignored that for now. "Would helping her be the best thing for her sake? For our team's sake?"

"78 percent yes, 65 percent yes." Dinah replied, a touch woodenly.

I nodded. "That's good enough for me. Amy? Dinah?"

Dinah looked a little surprised I asked for her opinion, but Amy glowered at me. "You really want to help her? She's-" I shushed her when her voice started getting too loud, pointing down toward the Alcotts downstairs. She huffed, but kept her voice lower. "She's a villain. She's killed people."

I took a deep breath and turned back to Dinah. "What are the chances she'll commit a hate crime, if we keep her away from the Empire and her family?"

The girl blinked owlishly. "Two percent."

That sounded pretty good to me, but Amy was still bristling. "What are the chances she kills someone in the future, if we recruit her?"

She winced. "66 percent."

I cringed and thought about it for a second. "What about the chances she kills someone who isn't themselves a murderer?"

"Thirteen percent."

Amy was looking victorious, so I glared her way and snapped, "Same questions, if we don't recruit her."

Dinah scrunched her nose cutely as she pondered the questions. "32 percent chance she commits a hate crime, 88 percent chance she kills someone, 58 percent chance she kills an innocent person."

I gave Amy a 'fucking see!?' look, and she grimaced. "Alright, fine." She muttered. "It's better to get her out of the gangs. Just don't expect me to like her."

"Dinah?" I asked, and she closed her eyes. I could feel her tense a couple times, likely additional questions she was asking her power, before she looked back my way and nodded. "Alright, what are the chances she'll join up if I just… ask her to?"

She glanced up for a moment, then back. "76 percent."

I grunted with mild surprise. "Better than I thought. Okay, that's Rune handled for now. I'll set up a meeting and talk to her, then we can go from there." I took another fortifying breath, then forged on. "I also met another villain." I opened my mouth to continue, but paused. Did I really forget to get Lisa's cape name? That… sounded really stupid, but exactly the sort of mistake I'd make when tired. Ugh. "A member of the Undersiders. Their Thinker."

"Who?" Amy asked, seeming resigned to the fact that I was hip deep in weird contacts already.

"The Undersiders, they-"

"Small time thieves, I know. I don't remember their names, though."

I grimaced, and started to fidget shamefully. "I… forgot to get her cape name."

Amy stared. Dinah glanced my way. I kept fidgeting. "Really?" She muttered, finally.

"It was right after Canberra." I spat, throwing my hands up. "I was tired and worked up, it slipped my mind, since she gave me her real name."

"What?" Amy chirped incredulously.

I shook my head. "She wasn't in costume. Neither was I. She gave me the name she's going by around town, and her real name, I didn't think to ask about her cape name." I heaved out a tired sigh. "I was too busy trying not to strangle her for jumping me on the way to school."

Amy kept staring for a moment, before she sighed, too. She dug her phone out, and muttered, "Keep talking." while fiddling with it. Dinah shifted closer to her desk, to start on her food while she listened.

"Well, they've all got problems. Regent ran away from home, and just wants money and to be left alone. Bitch is wanted for murder, but apparently it was an accident when she triggered, instead of premeditated like the PRT thinks. Grue is gathering money, trying to get custody of his sister, and thinks being a villain is the best way to do that for some reason. And… uh…" I wasn't sure if I should just tell them Lisa's name, or not. Amy solved that problem for me.

"Tattletale." She said, still skimming. "Thinker. Doesn't have her own page, just a suspiciously sterile blurb in the Undersider's information."

"Right." I muttered. "Tattletale says she never wanted to be a villain, but she was recruited by their team's shadowy boss at gunpoint. With what Dinah's been saying, I believed her when she said people are willing to recruit Thinkers like that." The girl shuddered, and I rubbed at her shoulder. "She wants help taking down their boss, Coil."

Amy muttered the name, and I assumed started navigating to his information, when Dinah shouted. "95 percent chance it's him!"

"What?" We asked, though I was starting to think I knew what she was going to say.

"The snake-man! The one that wants to lock me in the bad room from my visions! 95 percent chance it's Coil!" She was shaking, holding herself and rocking slightly after her outburst. I took a moment to watch her parents, to see if they'd react to the noise, but they hadn't.

"Well," I muttered, glancing at Amy, who looked alarmed and confused. "I guess that makes this personal, then."

"What is she talking about?" She asked lowly.

I shook my head and sighed. "The whole reason I started a team was because Dinah said someone was trying to kidnap her. Or at least her powers said they were planning on it, and intended to do so. I wanted to help her, and she said forming a team was the best way to do it." I turned back to Dinah. "Are you safe right now? What are the chances he'll try to kidnap you before the month is over? What about March and April?"

She shuddered a little, but answered. "Five percent this month. 25 percent next month, 50 the month after."

"Those are… oddly well defined numbers." I muttered.

She shook her head. "I think it's my powers rounding around his powers. I don't know." She snapped, gripping at her scalp and rocking again.

"Are you okay? Do we need to stop?" I asked sharply, rubbing at her back again.

She leaned into the touch, to the point where she started folding into my side again. I started running a hand through her hair while the other held her. "It's not my head, my powers are fine, it's just…" she shook her head and shuddered in my grip. "…I just need a minute."

I looked to Amy, who shrugged. "Why don't we eat? We can keep going once that's done." The others agreed, and Dinah slowly peeled herself away again.

We took about fifteen minutes to eat quietly, while Dinah calmed down. We piled up the plates and sat ourselves down again. Amy in the desk chair, me and Dinah on her bed. "Okay. We ready for more?" They both nodded, Dinah resolutely, while Amy was playing along. "Alright, where were we?"

"The Undersiders?" Amy prompted with a slight edge to her tone.

"Right." I nodded, turning to Dinah and muttering, "How to make it a future question…" before I spoke up. "What are the chances Tattletale will try to break away from Coil at some point? …Would she stay a villain if she did? …What about if we helped, or tried to recruit her?"

"90 percent chance she tries to get away from him." Dinah replied, closing her eyes to focus on the questions. "80 percent she stays a villain if we don't help. 20 percent if we do. 65 percent chance she'd join if we tried to recruit her."

"More of those five percent numbers..." I muttered.

She nodded. "Either her power messes with mine too, or it's her proximity to Coil."

"Don't trust the numbers too closely about Thinkers. Got it." I was trying to keep from relying on her anyway, despite how easy she was trying to make it. Couldn't afford to lock up if something happened to her, because we'd always thoughtlessly go with whatever she said was best. "What about the Undersiders? If we offered them what they wanted, would they quit being villains and join up?"

"Seriously?" Amy muttered, groaning into her palm as Dinah answered.

"60 percent yes. What were their names again?"

"Grue, Bitch, and Regent." I stated clearly.

"Grue, 53 percent yes. B-bitch..." I got the feeling she didn't get the chance to swear often. "79 percent yes. Regent, 55 percent yes."

I groaned. "At least it's not worse than a coin flip... Bitch was the one I wanted to help, anyway. Tattletale said she doesn't care about being a villain, as long as she can take care of her dogs." I shook my head and sighed. "Well, it's not like I was going to try anytime soon. That can wait for later, I don't want to waste all your questions on them right now." She nodded at the reasoning. "We do need to figure out Coil, though. Chances he'll be in Brockton Bay tomorrow?"

Dinah chirped out "95 percent." sounding confused.

"Chances he'll spend most of next month in Brockton Bay?" I asked, and Amy seemed to catch the purpose behind my question, from her feeling of realization.

"90 percent." She stated firmly.

"Well, at least we know he's local." I muttered.

Amy tapped her pocket. "He doesn't have much information online, but it said he's never seen, he tends to hire normal people to do things instead." She scoffed. "It also described his outfit, so grain of salt, there."

I snorted. "Fits what Tattletale said about him, being the shadowy plotter type." I shook my head, this was supposed to be serious. I could joke about him being vain enough to pose for an internet description later. "If we found him, say... tomorrow, and tried to take him down, would we win?"

Dinah nodded, grinning excitedly. "80 percent yes!"

I gave a shocked grunt. "That sounds... way too high." I hummed for a second. "What're the chances something terrible happens if we're not careful enough when we do take him down?"

Dinah's good mood crumbled. "90 percent, yes."

"That'd be why Tattletale hasn't managed it, yet." I mumbled into my fist, tapping it against my lips thoughtfully. "Is he going to do anything against our team or anyone on it, in the next week or so?"

"15 percent, probably not."

"Then we've got time to figure something out. I'll try to get more information from Tattletale whenever she gets back to me, it's only been a couple days. I'll have more questions then." I gave that a beat, "Speaking of, how are you doing?"

"I'm okay." Dinah said, projecting a brave face. "I don't have a headache, yet. I think I've used about half my questions before that, though."

She had to have answered twenty or thirty questions by now. I think she said she had about fifty before the headaches started, these days. I didn't want to push her too hard. "Just a few more, okay?" She nodded. "Alright, recruitment. If we assume Rune's going to say yes, what are the odds we'll have at least six capes on our team by the end of the week?"

"46 percent." Huh. That was pretty good.

"I've got an event set up for next weekend, to try and recruit some of the indie capes. Uh," I hesitated a bit, glancing over at Amy, who was ruminating on our Q&A session. "Both of you can come, if you want. I'm not sure about costumes, though..."

"I'll ask Vicky, assuming she's invited?" I nodded. "We'll see, then."

Dinah hummed hesitantly. "I'm... not sure I should go. I don't have a costume, and going out as a cape makes the bad numbers go up."

"Fair enough. Anyway, what are the odds we recruit at least one cape as a result of that meeting? Is it better if Amy or Vicky go?"

"At least one? 83 percent. It goes up to 96 percent if they go."

I hummed. "Worth taking it seriously, then." I turned to Amy. "Do you have any questions?"

She shrugged. "Aside from if any of the heroes get hurt in the next week?"

Dinah winced. "98 percent. That one's always really high, because severity of injuries is hard to narrow down. 48 percent chance a local hero suffers life-threatening injuries. 23 percent chance someone on our team does. Higher than normal, but the chance of getting into a fight always hovers around thirty percent. 34 right now, to be exact." She held up her hand, her body indicating a little over a dozen questions asked in quick succession. "Monday and Thursday are the worst for injuries, but only Thursday has a higher chance of fights than normal, right now. I guess... watch out for cars on Monday?" She shrugged helplessly. "Head's starting to hurt a little, now."

"Alright, we can stop for now. You can ask more questions tomorrow, anyway." I nodded to myself. "Oh, before I forget, you two should swap numbers, just in case."

They did so, and we spent the next few hours on bookwork. Well, Dinah and I did, Amy mostly just watched us while trawling PHO on her phone. She piped in a few times, but mostly seemed to be enjoying the atmosphere, and being away from all the usual stressors in her life. The homework and studying couldn't last forever though, and we still had a bit until lunch.

"So, I was thinking..." Dinah said, closing up her books. "...we don't have a name for the team, do we?"

I groaned. "I've been trying to think of one, but nothing seems good enough. Everything seems way too generic, like 'the Guardians' or 'the Wardens' or 'the Militia'... or way too nonspecific, like New Wave. What does 'New Wave' even mean anymore?" My head dipped to bonk on the desk. "If I try to make a reference like that, people either won't get it, or they'll make fun of it." Amy coughed into her hand, and couldn't seem to decide if she was amused or offended. "...no offense."

"Nah, I get it." She grumbled. "A 'New Wave' of heroes that petered out for a decade gets jibed up and down the street, we're used to it."

"...sorry." I sighed and sat back up. "But yeah, nothing sounds right, so I've been procrastinating. Waiting for more people, and for someone to have a better idea than 'Terra's Team of Terrific Teens'!" I threw up my hands when I spat it out, then choked out a startled cry and collapsed onto the desk again with a thud. "That's the best idea yet, and it's the worst, cheesiest name ever." I chuffed out little crying noises for a few moments, before I capped the melodrama with a quiet, half-hearted wail. "Never let me name anything. I am the worst."

Dinah giggled at the display, while Amy sighed. "Well, we're not going public yet. Vicky and I still need to talk to Aunt Sarah about being on both teams. It's not fair to her for me to just ditch them out of the blue." Like she'd been planning, honestly. Vicky must have said something to change her mind.

I perked up as a thought hit me. "Well, speaking of, I was thinking of how to set up the team, and I think doing something like New Wave would be best. It lets us sign up as a team for things like health insurance, shows we're accountable by having our books in the open, things like that. I've got no idea how to set it up, though. Pretty sure I'm going to need a lawyer or someone without a secret identity to do it for me."

"Probably, but... health insurance?" Amy asked incredulously.

I huffed and rolled my eyes. "You don't heal everything, and it's mostly for therapy anyway. Mental health is important, too." She hummed, but didn't disagree. "Anyway, it's that, or jump right in bed with the PRT, and try to set ourselves up as an affiliated team from the start. Armsmaster seems to like me, I think he'd help if I asked. I want to have all my bases covered before we decide on anything, though. Do you think your aunt would talk to me sometime, maybe after you have your talk with her?"

Amy hummed reluctantly, but nodded. "I can ask, at least."

"Thank you. I know this isn't easy, but..."

She waved me off. "I'll be fine."

I hesitated, but nodded. "Right." I checked on Dinah's parents again, and they seemed... okay. Chris had called in, staying home with his wife, and the two had spent the morning in a daze. They seemed functional despite their shock and apparent melancholy, though. "I think... we should probably head out for lunch." I didn't want to put more pressure on them, today. I turned to Dinah. "Are you going to be okay? Did you want to come with?"

She thought about it, and shook her head. "I should stay..."

"It's okay," I said softly, gently rubbing at her shoulder. "You be here for them. Did we have anything else?"

Amy shrugged, shaking her head. "I could do with food."

"Alright." I gave Dinah one last pat. "Keep us posted, okay?"

She nodded, and we all headed downstairs. Amy and I continued right outside, not bothering to stop for money for the tutoring, this week. We were heading to lunch, then we'd probably head home. And then? I really needed to talk to Amy about those secrets we had.


End file.
